


Best of Both Worlds

by Moira_Darling



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e11 Skinny Dipper, Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-14 21:14:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 24,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7190696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moira_Darling/pseuds/Moira_Darling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to It Could Be Worse.</p>
<p>Picks up right where the other story ends, after Jo leaves.  Runs in tandem with the episodes as they aired mostly. An exploration of what the episodes might have been had my story been canon - AKA missing and rewritten scenes. A view of the family Henry has and trusts. </p>
<p>Is completed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wolves of Deep Brooklyn - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> None of this is mine.
> 
> Written with Jabit's extensive suggestions.

After leaving the antique shop, she had stopped by her apartment to take a quick shower, change clothes, grab something to eat, and generally freshen up. Jo signaled to switch lanes, driving on autopilot to the newest scene. Drinking the cup of scalding coffee she had gotten, and hoping the caffeine was enough to hide the effect of the unplanned all-nighter, she checked her makeup in the rear-view mirror again.

 

She had learned so much overnight – literally. The weird and creepy doctor turned out to be immortal and unable to remain dead; the man most assumed to be his father, or at least father-figure, was actually his son; he had lived (or died, as the case may be...) through many major events through history; and his mental state after killing someone in self-defense was the least of his worries. She shook her head a little – while Henry might not be creepy anymore, he was still weird.

 

And how did he bring himself to trust her? Even now, she half-expected him to leave – to disappear and simply outlive her. Abe wouldn't want to, and with good reason; but she knew how stubborn Henry could be at times, regardless of who was in the right. Of course, if Henry left, Abe would probably go with him out of loyalty, if nothing else – and she dreaded going back to the shop and finding it abandoned.

 

The Detective took a deep breath, tightening her grip on the steering wheel and shaking herself out of that line of thoughts. She had to believe that he would stay; that he would continue to trust her. If he wouldn't trust her, then perhaps he would at least trust Abe's trust in her. Pulling her car into a parking-space near the possible crime scene, she shoved the problem of Henry and his secret into the back of her mind, refocusing on the body and problem at hand.

 

* * *

 

 

The scene was straightforward, but she couldn't ignore the feeling that this wasn't an accident or an open-shut case. Maybe it was just Henry's habit of constantly announcing that all of the 'accidents' that came across their desks were actually murders; but she had since come to appreciate his sixth sense of death, as it were. She wasn't alone in that feeling either, as Lucas apparently had the same feeling – that, or he was just being contrary. Knowing the length he went to at times to appease people and be friendly, she doubted that he would be that way though.

 

Working with Dr. Washington, she missed the banter and trivial information Henry always had for her throughout the initial examination, and she wondered how she had ever gotten anything done before he came to work – or at least how she had any fun doing her job. Talking with Lucas after the current M.E. left the scene, she also wondered just how he managed to keep track of the time since Henry had left; but kept from asking, knowing that the answer she would receive would likely make little sense in parts.

 

Calling goodbye to Lucas as she left the scene, she checked the address of the victim's – Jason Fox's – emergency contact, whom she assumed was either his brother or father, as the last name was the same. During her drive to the address listed, she wondered how someone who looked as well to do as Jason did could have come from such a different neighbourhood.

 

Turning off the car when she parked, she sat there. She hated doing this – telling someone that a loved one was gone. Maybe it was relation by blood or by marriage, but the person was nearly always expecting the victim to come home – to walk through the front door with a familiar greeting and prove that they were well and alive. This part of her job had never been easy, but it had seemed to be worse after her own husband had passed – when she herself had watched the door waiting for someone who would never open it again; and clutched her phone, listening for a ghost to call, then she could empathize with the people she spoke with. Personally, she preferred not knowing what they were going through...

 

“ _I'm the one who will have to live with it if you're injured or – worse – dead! Do you care? You have not had a hole ripped into your life, a hole that can never be filled; you don't have memories surrounding you every single day of your life, reminding you that they will never return – that nothing will be the same, no matter how hard you try.”_

 

Her words ran through her head again; and she winced, regretting the harshness of them. That was why her mother always told her to hold her tongue – to think before she spoke. Words spoken in anger – or exasperation – weren't thought through, and could often hurt the most. A faint huff of laughter escaped her as she realised that, had she not spoken so harshly, Henry would likely have never told her – instead would have waited until the inevitable moment where she saw him die.

 

She shook her head, reaching into her pocket to turn her phone off before going up to talk to the person. For all of Henry's genius, some things seemed to pass him by; and she wondered how he thought he could put off telling her permanently – eventually either she would have noticed he wasn't aging, or she would have seen him die. And she was willing to bet that it would have been the latter, given his sense of self-preservation.

 

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she got out of the car and knocked on the door. When the older man opened the door, she mentally faltered as she realised that Jason must have been this man's son.

 

“Hello? Marco Fox?” She hesitated, “I'm afraid I have very bad news...”


	2. Wolves of Deep Brooklyn - Part 2

Abe stood above the trapdoor, staring down at it. Jo had left nearly two hours ago, but Henry still hadn't emerged from his lab.

 

Sometimes, he wondered just how Henry had survived without someone there to literally pull him through life – he could get so wrapped up in his small world, or in his secret, and entirely forget that there were others in the world besides himself. At least now there was a bit more hope for his future, now that Jo knew – and that Henry told her willingly, and not after she saw him die or something.

 

Okay, 'willingly' might be stretching it a bit too far, but nonetheless – his point still stood. There was still a chance that Henry might disappear alone after his son eventually died, but Abe felt that he could sleep easier knowing that someone else at least knew of Henry's condition. Knew about it, and didn't immediately either confine him to an asylum or hospital, or wish to do experiments. And she was at least as stubborn as Henry or himself – she wouldn't be cowed easily.

 

Sighing, Abe bent to open the trap door, looking around for his dad as he walked down the stairs. Seeing Henry dissecting a rat, he hesitated for a moment – surely if he had been this bored, he would have gone back to work by now!

 

“So, the trap finally got one?”

“No, actually. My initial examination suggests another cause.”

 

Abe listened to his father expound upon the rat's search of food that led to its demise, mentally shaking his head in wonder at Henry's ability to entirely ignore the metaphorical 'elephant in the room'. The Doctor seemed, happy and carefree – but Abe knew he wasn't. Just hours ago, he was hyperventilating in shock because he had accidentally told Jo his secret; and then he had relived some of the best and worst moments in his life as he told her about his history, and explained himself to her.

 

Now, he had retreated to his lab, to something mindless where he could pretend the last several hours had never happened – that he hadn't bared his soul to someone he had (in relation to his life) just met, and trusted in their mercy, in a way. Abe wasn't willing to bet that Henry would quit ignoring it anytime soon either....

 

“Tragic.”

 

“No, not really.” Abe took a step closer. “Look, Henry, I was all for you taking some time off from work after what happened.”

 

The mask Henry wore began to break a little, but Abe couldn't bring himself to truly feel sorry – Henry couldn't hide here forever. If he spent too long thinking about it, he would try to run – he needed to work with Jo on a normal case – to see that nothing had changed between them.

 

“By 'what happened' I mean you having to kill a psychopath who attacked you in your home. You had no choice – it was self defense.”

 

“That's just it! I had no choice! I was manipulated – outsmarted by this 'Adam'.” Henry took a breath, trying to hold together the mask he had recently repaired. “He made me kill a man.”

 

There were very few occasions where Abe was seriously willing to kill someone. Most of those were when Henry was being particularly stubborn or obtuse; but hearing the hidden pain and fear within Henry's words, Abe was perfectly fine with killing Adam – although, he'd be happier about it if the stalker would stay dead. “A very bad man.”

 

“Does it matter? Adam's won.”

 

“Did he? Did he?” Abe came up to the table, leaning on it. “Henry, you're still sane and alive; I'm still alive, Jo's still alive – how has he won?” Knowing Henry wouldn't process his logic quite yet, and wishing it were possible to literally knock sense into someone, Abe pressed on. “You always used to quote that British guy to me, he was in Parliament or something – some great speaker.” Abe waved a hand, dismissing it as unimportant. “But his name doesn't matter – it's what he said: 'All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.'”

 

“You are thinking of Edmund Burke, but I don't think he was the one who originally stated -”

 

Abe rolled his eyes and interrupted. “Regardless of who said it, it's still true. And yes, maybe you'll fight against Adam and maybe he'll still win – but I can promise you this: if you do nothing, if you hide yourself away down here forever, they he's guaranteed to win.”

 

Henry didn't answer, and Abe stepped back with a sigh. “Giving up is what he wants you to do – the only way he truly wins is if you decide to sit down here and Sherlock rats all day.”

 

* * *

 

 

Abe stared at the phone in his hand for a moment before carefully resettling it on the cradle. Jason...dead – it just didn't seem possible. Behind him, he could feel Henry watching, and he knew his father had guess what the conversation was about.

 

“That was Marco... My old Army buddy – his son is dead...” He slowly turned around, looking up to meet Henry's eyes. “They – the police think it's suicide, but...”

 

“Oh dear – I am so sorry.”

 

Henry's words were subdued and almost heartbroken. To an outsider, that a young man who never truly met either Marco or Jason would be so emotional might be confusing – but Abe knew that Henry was thinking of how he would feel in such a situation; thinking of the impact the boy's death would make on the lives of those who did know him.

 

“Why do you not believe that it's a suicide?”

 

“It's just a feeling, can't really explain it. I knew Jason, and Marco obviously did – I just can't picture him killing himself...”

 

“Who has the case?”

 

“He couldn't remember – the cop just left, I'm the first one he's called. He's still in shock.” Abe began to continue; but then cut himself off, hesitating.

 

“What is it, Abraham?”

 

“Well, I was wondering...um...” Noticing Henry start to smile at his faltering speech, he glared at him, which only cause the Doctor's grin to grow. “Well, you're a medical examiner, there'll be an autopsy, you need to go back to work....” He let his sentence trail off.

 

The smile faded, and Henry shook his head. “No, I couldn't...”

 

“Why not?” He demanded.

 

Henry didn't answer, instead looking down and straightening the papers on his desk.

 

“Henry, he was Marco's only son – wouldn't you want to know the truth if you were in position? What about what you told Jo about your job, about how you do it to settle doubts? That's all I'm asking – just go look at the body and find out if it's really suicide.”

 

Henry closed his eyes and sighed, sinking into his chair. “You're right, of course...” His short laugh was muffled in his arms. “If wisdom comes with age, it apparently has forgotten to accompany me.”

 

“Yeah, well – it's what happens when you're raised by a saint and an immortal. Then...you'll do it?”

 

“Yes, Abe.” He sat up. “I'll go back to work – but please, not 'til tomorrow. Let me have this last day.”

 

“Sure – after talking all night, you're probably more tired than you are after dying.”

 

Henry nodded slowly.

 

“Oh, and Henry?” Abe began as he started back up the steps. “Get rid of the rat, please.”


	3. Wolves of Deep Brooklyn - Part 3

Once ensuring that Crachiolla was safely put away in an interrogation room, Jo pulled Henry away. Under other circumstances, she would have just pulled him to the side and spoken softly, staying out of people's way; but the last thing she wanted right now was to have someone overhear her.

 

She had been overjoyed – albeit perhaps not as outwardly enthusiastic as Lucas was – when Henry came back; relieved that he had stayed and trusted her. When Dr. Washington asked her which report she would choose, she had said 'insanity' without hesitation – well aware of the near irony in the wording, especially when dealing with Henry. However, now, after what had happened outside of the machanic shop, she questioned the wisdom of allowing Henry back – even with his condition, this was a new level of recklessness.

 

Once she was certain that there wasn't a possibility of their words being overheard, she turned on him.

 

“Henry, what in the world was that all about? You could have been killed – I could have been killed!” She amended her statement somewhat, knowing that he would have reappeared elsewhere unharmed had he died.

 

“I am sorry.” He rushed on. “I just didn't want to let him get away.”

 

“Henry, that's not your job – you're an M.E., not a cop!”

 

“He was manipulating us, and I couldn't let that happen.”

 

Mentally, she tacked on 'again' to the end of his sentence, and then frowned shaking her head as she processed what he said. “Wait, 'manipulating' us? You say that as if it's personal! He was lying – that's what guilty people tend to do.” She sighed, reaching up to rub away the headache that threatened. She could see Henry ignoring her, knowing he had a retort ready; and she didn't want to hear it right now. “Henry, what would have happened had you been hit by that car?”

 

He blinked, taken somewhat off guard by her question. “I doubt I would have -”

 

“Well, let's just go with my statement and assume you were:” She lifted her head up again, “What would have happened?”

 

“I suppose that at the speed the vehicle was traveling that I would be severely injured, possibly dead.”

 

“Yes, and what would happen if you died, there?”

 

“...I would have been perfectly fine?”

 

“Yes, you would have been. Physically, at least. But you also would have disappeared in front of a bunch of people, in front of strangers – and I'm sure that would have had repercussions. And perhaps you would be able to avoid them, but what about Abe? About me?

 

“Assuming that you chose to and were able to disappear, then I'd never see you again. Abe would probably go with you, of course; but as he's probably mentioned before, he can't live forever. Of course, this is assuming that no one got the bright idea of using your secret for themselves, then Abe and I are put at risk as leverage against you.”

 

Henry took a shifted backwards, away from her. There was fear beginning to show in his eyes, and she knew that some of what she said had gotten through at least – for which she was thankful.

 

Now that he was listening to her somewhat, she changed the subject back. “So, manipulating you? Why does that terrify you so much?”

 

Henry still met her eyes, but she could see the walls slam down in them. She sighed – she had known that Henry would likely ignore the subject, but sometimes it bordered on ridiculous.

 

“Henry, I know it can't be just him – you're too level headed, and have dealt with several like people since you've worked with me – so what triggered this?”

 

He finally looked away, sighing. “You are nearly as bad as Abe.”

 

She smiled slightly. “Nearly?”

 

“You haven't killed me yet.”

 

She chuckled, but then her mouth fell open in shock when she realised that he was serious – and not just talking about for experimentation. “What – how? Why?”

 

Henry smiled, and she was glad to see it was sincere. “A rather long story involving a flight of stairs, a toy vehicle, and unearthly hours of the morning.”

 

She narrowed her eyes, and laughingly punched him on the shoulder. “Henry Morgan, stop it.”

 

“Ask him if you wish – although, his version likely differs from my own.”

 

She grinned. “Of course it would...” Shaking her head, her smile faded as she studied the Doctor. Even cheerful, he still looked so worn out. “Listen, you said that you were ready to come back, is that true?”

 

He sighed. “Yes, it is.”

 

“Come on, Henry – I've been through this before,” She frowned as Henry nearly rolled his eyes. “I believe you, Henry; and I trust you. If you want to talk, I'll always listen.” She shrugged, and turned to leave.

 

When she was nearly out of hearing range, a quiet answer stopped her: “It was Adam.”

 

She turned back. “Pardon?”

 

You asked why being manipulated terrified me so much – it was Adam. He tricked me into killing someone, and I can't let that happen again.”

 

She sighed, mentally shaking her head in exasperation. Because of course it was Adam – it was Henry's own, personal, living nightmare; and it had come back to haunt Henry again.

 

“Well, I won't let that happen.”

 

He stared at her in confusion. “Won't let what happen, Detective?”

 

“You be manipulated – I'll be beside you, and I won't let you or anyone else make that mistake with your life again.”

 

He smiled a little, and she physically shook her head in exasperation when she saw him lock his mask back in place.

 

“I know, and I appreciate that. But I am fine, Jo; you needn't worry.”

 

She doubted that; but she let him go, knowing that pushing would get her nowhere and only build the wall bigger.

 


	4. Wolves of Deep Brooklyn - Part 4

Sometimes, she could see the purpose of hitting one's head repeatedly on something – it certainly seemed less headache-inducing in the long run than dealing with Henry did. Because of course he wouldn't stay put. Honestly, after all the cases they'd worked together, she couldn't even remember why she'd though that this time would be different – that this time, he would stay out of the way and out of trouble.

 

She pulled into a parking slot near Abe's shop and shut the car off, sitting for a moment in the silence. Henry worried her – he both was and wasn't himself in this case, and she still half-expected him to disappear and never return. For her part, nothing had changed about her opinion him, except that maybe parts of him made more sense than before.

 

Getting out and standing outside of the car, she watched the shop. Through the door, she could just see Henry sitting at his desk, looking at a picture. Taking a deep breath to fortify herself, she went up and knocked on the door, waving to the doctor when he looked up.

 

As Henry came and let her in, she could see that something was off. Just a little bit, not too much – but it reminded her too much of how he had been acting after the argument; and she just wanted to turn around and face the problem another day. Knowing that ignoring the problem would do nothing but escalate it, she slowly walked into the shop, organising her thoughts.

 

“Have you come to tell me you no longer want to work with me in the field?”

 

She came to a stop and slowly turned around, shocked. “What? No! Henry, I still want to work with you in the field – why wouldn't I?”

 

He looked away. “Jo, I'm immortal and cannot die – you have no proof of this, yet you claim to believe me. I thank you for not locking away, but I understand that it's too much of a strain to ask you to continue to work with me – at least on a day to day basis.”

 

She stared at him. Did he really think that of her, that she would abandon him so easily? Alright, given his history and the extreme incredibility of his story, it wasn't that surprising – but it was still insulting.

 

“Henry Morgan, just what am I going to have to say or do to convince you that I mean it? I'm not leaving you – and I'm not letting you leave me either!” She took a deep breath to calm herself – apparently, dealing with Henry would never lead to suffocation. The opposite, perhaps – but not lack of oxygen.

 

He changed the subject again, not knowing himself how to answer her question. “What did you tell Lt. Reece?”

 

“About what?”

 

“About the...incidents with the vehicles.”

 

She shook her head. “Nothing. I know you aren't suicidal or anything, considering as it won't take; so I didn't think it necessary to involve anyone else.” She shrugged. “And it's not like therapy would help either – if you ever opened up enough so that they would be able to help, they'd think you were crazy; so...

 

“But!” She added. “If we're going to work together – and we are – you're going to have to be less careless.”

 

For a moment he just looked at her, and she got the feeling that he was studying her somewhat. Abruptly, he relaxed, and she realised just how tense he had been while talking with her. When he looked at her again, he seemed lighter; as if he carried less of a burden.

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

“Yes – no more standing in front of cars, especially not in public; no confronting the murderer on your own, unarmed; no more keeping stalkers or deaths secret; no more -”

 

“Yes, yes – in short, do not risk myself and my secret needlessly; I have done this before, Jo.”

 

She smiled at how he resembled a young child who thought they knew everything and were being told what to do. “Of course you have, Henry. But I think the only reason you're still here right now and not on the other side of the planet is because you told me, and didn't just die.”

 

He glared at her in mock indignation at being misunderstood. “I meant that I had kept my secret before -”

 

“Yes, I know.” For a moment, silence fell as the conversation ran out. Shifting, Jo changed the subject.

 

“So, what picture were you looking at earlier?”

 

A smile lit up his face and he moved around her to find it on the desk. “It was an old picture....Of Abe in...” He held it up with a triumphant smile, and brought it to her. “Abe, in Vietnam with two from his platoon: Marco, and Jerry.”

 

“Marco, what a coinci -” She broke off and looked up from the picture she was studying. “By any chance, would his last name be 'Fox'?” At Henry's nod, she shook her head. “...So that's why you came back so suddenly.”She frowned. “But how did an old friend of Abe's convince you to come back to work?”

 

“Marco Fox was from Brooklyn – he knew how to protect himself. He met Abe at the bus, and they became friends – good enough that Marco actually protected Abe as well during the war. If it were not for him...” Henry closed his eyes, refusing to follow that train of thought any further. Refused to think about how he might have lost both Abe and Abigail within a few years of each other.

 

Jo saw the tension begin to reappear in the Doctor; and changed the subject a little bit, backtracking.“Then Abe is a veteran?”

 

Henry nodded again. “Yes. He was drafted in 1965; and we couldn't convince him to stay, to get around the letter.”

 

“Stay?”

 

“Neither Abigail nor I wanted him to go – war is vicious and deadly, and takes more than life when it kills. But he had it stuck in his mind that he would fight for his country, and there was nothing I could do to convince him otherwise.

 

“Of course, then he spoke of blessings and curses – and I really don't know how he came to be so wise...”

 

She laughed, nearly bent over in half, at Henry's exasperated and amused expression.

 

“It really isn't that humourous...”

 

“Yes...yes, it...is.” She gasped, finally managing to straighten up; glad for the chance to laugh, even if by accident. “You, Henry, are hilarious sometimes.”

 

“I fail to see how my wish to protect my son is hilarious...”

 

When she realised that he honestly had no idea, she began grinning again, oblivious to the bemused smile he gave her.

 

“Henry, you're pouting because someone not even a third of your age is wiser than you! It's funny.”

 

He gave up with a sigh. “Very well, if you think so.” He changed the subject slightly. “Are you free? We'd be delighted if you could stay.”

 

She could hear laughter from a back room. “Oh, no – I couldn't. I'd be intruding.”

 

Henry's eyes closed off, and he nodded. “I understand...”

 

She tried to figure out a way to alleviate the sudden tension in the room, but her phone rang.

 

“Hey...What's up?...Okay...Right now?...Alright, I'm on my way.” She hung up the phone, and turned back to Henry with a grin, having found the perfect solution.

 

“So, Henry, how would you like to see a dead body?”

 

The Doctor grinned, and she couldn't help laughing at his childish excitement.

 

“'Twould be a pleasure, Detective.” He vanished through a door, and she could hear him quickly explaining to Abe. Moments later, he reappeared, looping his scarf around his neck. Leading the way out to her car, he called back, “Are you coming, Jo?”

 

She grinned and shook her head in amusement, following him out. He would stay – she was certain of it now.

 


	5. Diamonds are Forever - Part 1

She brushed past Henry, not looking at either him or Hanson. She walked down the halls, barely even looking where she was going; only hoping that no one would try to stop or talk to her.

 

Seeing him standing there, alive and well; remembering the phone conversation, and the evening they had spent together – she blinked the tears away. It was bad enough that she was being treated like a wounded puppy by Hanson; did she really have to embarrass herself by crying too?

 

It was almost as if she had forgotten how much she missed him, how much she had entirely loved him and he her. What god decided to grant whom immortality? And which cursed men with mortality? Just who decided who lived and who died – who should be taken away and leave a gaping hole in the lives of their loved ones?

 

Every day she went home, she remembered Sean picking out the house; remembered asking for the holly bushes to match the door. When she worked in the kitchen at night, she could feel the ghost of memories of fixing meals with him fill the room – and she could barely stand it. But she couldn't leave; couldn't lose the tie to her husband that the house held.

 

Why were people like Henry or Adam immortal when people like Sean died early? Who decided that that was just or right? Henry didn't even want the immortality, so why force it upon him?

 

“Jo, you know it isn't like that,” She scolded herself, her voice barely audible.

 

And yes, she did know that. To outlive everyone around her and to see everything she knew fade away would be something she would think to find on the seventh level of Dante's Inferno – she had outlived Sean, and that was hard enough. She could not envy or blame Henry, for she could glimpse just how much of a burden it was.

 

Finding herself in the break room, she fished out some change to buy some gum. Seeing her hands tremble, she clenched them, hitting the machine when the gum jammed. Taking a deep breath, she could hear someone enter the room behind her; and she knew without looking that it was Henry.

 

“We can put robots on Mars, but I can't keep the gum from getting stuck on that thing...” She swallowed, hearing the barely held back tears in her voice.

 

“It must be hard. I mean, not the gum – seeing him.”

 

She clenched her teeth, reminding herself that Henry was not to blame in any way for this. That turning around and yelling at him would do nothing but embarrass herself.

 

“It feels as if it's real for a moment, as if you could talk to him again.”

 

“No, I just -” She broke off and took a deep breath to compose herself. She couldn't cry here – not like this. “I just go caught off guard for a second.”

 

“That is quite understandable, as you wanted to keep it buried.”

 

She sighed, hoping that he would let the subject drop; at least for right now. She knew she needed to deal with it eventually – and heaven knows she shouldn't begrudge Henry his chance to listen to her.

 

“...And that you would like me to mind my own business.” He added, turning to leave the room; understanding when is not the opportune time to mourn.

 

“You have excellent powers of deduction, Henry.” She sighed again, knowing that he had come up to see her for a reason. “What is it that you came up here for?”

 

He paused a moment on the doorstep, looking back at her with a calculating expression. She knew he wouldn't pity her – likely he would be distracted from this incident very soon – but it was still unnerving.

 

Suddenly, his decision made, he smiled in that odd way of his, and was distracted from what had happened five seconds before.

 

“I was wondering if you could smell some perspiration for me.”

 

For a moment, she stared at him, wondering if he had seriously just asked her that. Laughing softly, she answered, “Henry, you always know just what to say...”

 

Still smiling, she held out a hand. Whether by design or by accident, he had successfully given her the helping hand she had needed to distract herself. She was able to lock away the emotions again for a later time.


	6. Diamonds are Forever - Part 2

Henry stared at his glass, gently tapping on the side of it as Jo poured herself another glass to drink.

 

“Do not try to help me, Henry. Don't offer me advice, or sympathy, or any of your armchair analysis.” She set the bottle down on the table and took a sip of her drink.

 

“Understood.”

 

Jo closed her eyes in relief, only to freeze when the doctor continued talked.

 

“Perhaps one tiny suggestion...”

 

She summoned all of her rapidly evaporating patience to turn to him and speak softly. “Henry, I am armed, and there is absolutely nothing stopping me.”

 

He smiled softly, and reached for the water. “A little splash of water. Helps the wine release it's full bouquet.”

 

She smiled, accepting the improved drink. “Thank you.”

 

“Well, if you're going to drink, you might as well do it properly.”

 

She set the glass back down on the table, knowing that Henry likely knew what she meant; but needing to clarify anyway. “I meant for not talking about Sean.”

 

“I knew what you meant.” He answered; and was silent for a moment before adding, “If you want to talk, I'm here.”

 

She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

 

“Otherwise, I'll just sit silently beside you.”

 

Jo took another sip, waiting for him to continue. When several seconds past, and Henry was actually quiet, she allowed herself to relax and hope that she would have a quiet evening.

 

“Silence isn't a gift I was given.”

 

Knowing that silence would have been too good to be true, she finished the rest of her drink and turned to him with an exasperated look – which he ignored, and continued with his sentences. After a minute of listening to him begin to list several common causes of death, and getting ready to list more (and how exactly did he think this would help at all?), she surrendered.

 

“Henry, what is your point?”

 

“...What kills you is not what causes your heart to stop beating – it's what prevents you from living.” He finally looked up at her. “You must deal with Sean's death some day.”

 

She nodded, managing a semblance of a smile. “Not tonight – okay?”

 

“No.” He seemed to set aside his willingness to listen, becoming once again the doctor of the morgue that was easily excited over crime scenes, and the casual friend and partner she had. He carefully poured her another glass. “Not tonight.”

 

She took a deep breath, sipping from her refilled glass. He swirled the wine around in his glass, looking around the bar with interesting – although, in what, she could never tell.

 

“Henry, you never did answer my question: what were you doing at my house earlier?”

 

He looked back her with a momentary look of confusion, before he pulled his thoughts back from wherever they had wandered. “Investigating – I had thought that was clear.”

 

She rolled her eyes with a weak smile. “Yes, Henry, it was. Why were you, and Lucas of all people, investigating a trail that led to my door? Why wasn't Hanson, or Dunn?”

 

He looked away from her. “Well, I may have told Hanson that I wouldn't blow your case up...”

 

“Blow the case up?” She frowned. “Why would he worry about – oh. Of course.”

 

Henry watched her, not entirely certain of how she would react. Unpredictably, she grinned.

 

“Jo?”

 

“Hanson actually thought you'd drop the case, that you'd listen to him?”

 

“In my defense, it was on my own time...”

 

“Henry! You won't obey orders to save your life – literally – why would you obey when you knew the real culprit was still free?” She grinned, shaking her head – and Henry was glad to see that most of the sorrow had left her.

 

“Hm.” He took another sip, studying the patterns on a napkin.

 

She watched him trace them, finding the repetitive movements soothing.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dunn really doesn't like you.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

She took another sip, gently swirling her glass. “Detective Hank Dunn – from Major Crimes. He has 'somewhat against thee'.”

 

He smiled at her quote. “And when did he see fit to inform you, may I ask?”

 

“On the way to the warehouse – Hanson was in another car. He said something about your validity; that the word of one man shouldn't be taken at face value.” She frowned. “He also questioned your sanity – but I do that myself, and I know Abe probably does as well; so that isn't as annoying.”

 

Henry laughed. “'Tis always reassuring to know the high esteem one's co-workers hold oneself in.”

 

She sighed. “How do you do it, Henry?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“How do you deal with people who don't trust you, who don't believe you?”

 

He shrugged. “It makes little difference to me what other's opinions are. Whether or not they trust or believe me is their affair, and will only have an impact on their lives in the long run.”

 

She thought about it. “Well, I haven't had as long as you have to learn to turn the other cheek, so...”

 

Henry stared at her before grinning. “Why, Jo – I'm honoured that you took it upon yourself to defend me!”

 

She grimaced and waved his words off. “You make it sound as if your a delicate damsel in need of rescuing, and I'm the knight in shining armour...”

 

He frowned in thought. “Perhaps it did come out that way... But I meant it sincerely. Thank you.”

 

“Henry, someone has to stand on your side after all this time – what sort of family or friend would I be if I didn't stand up for you when people spoke about you behind your back?”

 

“A wise one...” He mumbled, finishing his wine.

 

She turned to face him. “Henry Morgan, you can have as many crazy secrets as you like, and almost as many eccentricities – but I'll still defend you.” She grinned. “And I will probably tease you mercilessly about it after, but that's what friends do anyway...”

 

Henry shook his head. “I fear that you and Abe will be a bad influence upon each other.”

 

She laughed. “Perhaps – but I know we'll be a good influence on you.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Henry, you've really got to call me more often with reasons besides recently dying – it's not good for my health to get a call from you and automatically assume that you've died.”

 

Henry sat on the steps outside the closed bar, letting Jo lean against him. “Probably – but that is irrelevant at this moment. Here,” He slipped away from the Detective and stood up. “I need your help assisting her into the vehicle.”

 

“Sure, right – what about her car? You weren't planning on driving it, surely...”

 

“Of course not, Abe – that would be extremely unwise, and I fear Jo would not appreciate it. No,” He carefully pulled the Detective to her feet, carrying most of her weight, “We'll leave her car here for the moment – although, I will take her keys with us.”

 

“Good.” Abe reached out to help his father carry Jo back to their car, mostly steadying the Doctor. Reaching the car, Henry laid her down in the back seat; covering her with his jacket.

 

“So, where's her house?”

 

“Her house?” He frowned at Abe in confusion as they also got into the car.

 

“Yes, her house. The place she lives? With her bed? And shower? And painkillers of some sort?”

 

“Why would we take her there?”

 

Abe stopped fastening his seat belt and turned to Henry with exasperated confusion. “...Because it's her house? Where else are we supposed to take her?”

 

“The shop, of course.” Henry fastened his seat belt and settled into his seat as if it was already decided.

 

“What? No, we can't take her there -”

 

The Doctor interrupted. “Why not?”

 

“How about why?”

 

Henry began listing the reasons. “Because it's quite late, because the address to her house is kept secret, because then you can cure her hangover quite easily, because it would be less awkward than helping her into her house would be, because -”

 

“Alright! Alright – enough.” Abe shook his head and started the car, turning back to the shop. “So, what did you two talk about for so long?”

 

Henry frowned. “Well, we studiously _didn't_ talk about her late husband – she really must deal with that eventually.”

 

“You have one of the shortest memories sometimes, you know that?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

Abe sighed. “Her husband died – a part of her died – the last thing she wants to do is face it. If she doesn't face it, then there's always the chance it isn't real.”

 

“But she knows he's dead, that he won't come back.”

 

“Yeah, so? Just because her head knows that, doesn't mean all of her heart does.

 

“Henry, do you remember when Mom left, when you refused to talk about her for nearly two months?”

 

The Doctor didn't answer, looking away.

 

“And then, you only spoke of her as if she was on a long holiday and due to come back any day? I still don't think you've dealt with it – oh, you know that she's gone, that she won't come back; but I think your heart still waits for her to come back with news of her journey.”

 

Henry sighed. “Of course, but still...”

 

“Don't worry, Henry – she'll face it soon.”

 


	7. Diamonds are Forever - Part 3

He couldn't lose her, not now – not when she believed and trusted him so readily.

Fidgeting in the background, Henry watched Hanson organising the people. He knew he was no help, but couldn't bring himself to leave. All he could do was pray that she got out of this safely; that he didn't lose another part of his family. Jerked out of his thoughts by the phone ringing on the table behind him, he turned towards it, hoping for something to do; relieved to see that it was Jo.

Hanson didn't hear him, so Henry answered the phone – better to be scolded for intruding upon someone's personal items than to potentially lose contact with the one they're looking for.

"Hello, Jo." He answered, relaxing a bit – if she was calling him, then she was safe.

"Hey, Dunn, what was that address again? I think we're getting close."

He froze, realising that she was far from safe; that Dunn must be suspicious. "Detective Hanson!" He called, glad when another officer directed the Detective's attention to him and he came over.

"It's Jo – she's in the car, but she can't answer me."

Hanson pulled the phone away from Henry, putting it on speakerphone before replacing it in the Doctor's hand. Together, they listened to the conversation on the other end, listening for any dropped hints they could use to find their Detective.

When Jo asked Dunn what his plan was, both Hanson and Henry smiled for a moment. Even now, at gunpoint, Jo was a cop – working for a confession. As soon as they heard the exit he wanted her to take, Hanson turned away to tell the others – but stopped when he realised where it was.

"That's no-man's land, and state police are still ten minutes out. He's going to kill her."

Henry loosened his grip on the phone, not wanting to break it or disconnect the call. She couldn't die. Not now. There were very few people he trusted enough to tell his secret, especially now – he couldn't lose the one he had adopted, who was part of his family.

Abe had been after him to tell her, to let someone else in – would his life really be so cruel as to take it away as soon as he found it? There wasn't anyone else – not here.

* * *

"Jo? Do you trust me?" His question was almost a statement, for he rushed on. "You need to crash your car into a barricade."

She gasped. "You're crazy."

"Watch it, Jo – I do have a gun."

She glanced at the dirty cop beside her before refocusing on the road and the voice in her ear. She could hear Hanson's strangled exclamation, and personally agreed with him. She wasn't immortal – she couldn't just get up and walk away from whatever injuries she might suffer.

"I'm not crazy – I've seen enough car accidents to know that you'll survive."

She frowned. There was something different in Henry's voice, almost...desperation, fear. Was he honestly afraid of losing her?

"Just past the Mosholu Parkway exit, there is an emergency barricade. Keep the car at sixty miles per hour – but, Jo, you _must_ hit the centre of the barricade."

Did she trust him? She heard Hanson ask the Doctor if he knew what he was doing – but she wanted to know what he was thinking. He said that he had seen enough car accidents, but she guessed that he had been in enough – and she wasn't so certain that she would survive. Or, at least not survive whole. She might be alive, but there were many other things that could be worse than death for her – and she wondered if Henry even took them into account.

Beside her, Dunn nodded at the exit. "Right there. Get off."

This was it. If she got off now, there was very little chance anyone would get to her in time; and she was at Dunn's mercy. Yes, Hanson and the others at the precinct knew that Dunn was dirty thanks to both Henry and her phone call; but she would likely still be lost.

And there was the matter of her promise. She couldn't leave them – Abe wouldn't be around forever, and she had promised to never abandon them. At the very least, she had to try everything possible before giving up.

"Trust me, Jo."

She hesitated for a second more. To do the sensible thing and listen to the man holding her hostage, hoping to take advantage of him later – or to listen to the man who had first-hand knowledge of most of these things... The chances for survival felt the same for both, but she already knew which she'd choose.

Taking a deep breath, she accelerated. She could hear Dunn shouting at her, and Hanson almost begging Henry to be right; but the world seemed to fade out around her. She could hear Henry's orders still, but a voice in the back of her head was loudly reminding her of the myriad reasons why this was suicidal.

"I'm right with you, Jo. Trust me."

She focused on his voice, reminding herself that he would never knowingly put her in danger. If he told her to do this, then it was safe. As they reached the barricade, she reached over to unfasten Dunn's seat belt when he tried to grab the wheel – she didn't want him walking away from this.

* * *

Henry held his breath, listening to Dunn's shouts and the impact on the barrier.

"Jo?"

Only static answered him, and he felt dread clench around his heart. "Jo?"

Hanson struggled to take a breath, looking away to blink back the tears that threatened. The static continued to echo from the phone, and Henry dropped it from suddenly nerveless fingers.

"I've killed her..."

Hanson jerked back to look at the doctor at the whispered words. "You...what?"

"I – I killed..." Henry collapsed next to the table, only held up by Hanson's hand around his arm.

"You sent her into that situation knowing how fatal it could be – you told her to trust you, Doc!"

Henry looked away, not entirely listening to the Detective.

Hanson jerked his hand away from the Doctor, letting him fall. He took a deep breath, shaking his head. "No, she's not dead – she can't be. You wouldn't have told her to do something that risky."

He pulled Henry up to his feet, pushing him towards the door. "Come on, Henry – let's go get her."

* * *

Henry was getting out of the patrol car before it even fully stopped. Once Hanson had started driving, Henry had snapped out of his shock; and now he ran up to the car, calling for Jo.

It was empty; banged up and steaming, but still empty. There was blood all over the front seat, and Henry felt his heart drop to his shoes.

She wasn't there. Granted, her dead body wasn't there either – but what if he was wrong? He was immortal, maybe that had something to do with his survival. And was she badly injured, was she in the hospital now?

He stumbled, catching himself before he fully fell. He could see Hanson on the other side of the car, talking with a paramedic. At the very least, he hoped the precinct didn't fire him if she was severely injured or worse because of his suggestions – he wasn't so naïve as to think that they wouldn't hate him...

"Detective Martinez, looks like you're going to be okay."

When the name registered, Henry looked up, searching for the source. Hardly daring to hope, praying that at least she wouldn't outright hate him, he ran in the direction of the voice.

"Jo."

She looked up, and the finishing medics left. "Henry!"

Looking her over, and seeing no signs of serious damage, Henry sighed in relief.

"Whoa!" She reached out to catch him as he stumbled, pulling him over to lean on the stretcher. "Be careful there..."

"You're...you're alright."

"Yes. It turns out you were right – as usual." She smiled, and Henry offered a shaky one in return.

Trying to calm his shaky breathing, he reached out and took her hand; trying to express what he couldn't find words to say. That she was part of his family now, and that he would do everything to protect her. That he trusted her with everything, even if he couldn't say it. That he would always be there for her, no matter what happened.

She smiled for a moment, understanding him. Even if his mouth couldn't speak the words, the relief, the worry, the fear, and the trust in his eyes made it clear. Squeezing his hand back, she whispered, "I know."


	8. Diamonds are Forever - Part 4

She opened the door, hoping that she looked more composed than she felt. Seeing Henry standing there, she smiled.

"Thought you might need some company tonight."

She sighed, nodding and motioning him into the house. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea."

Letting the Doctor shut the door, she led the way into the kitchen. "Is there anything I can get you, something to drink"

He tilted his head, watching her set out two cups on the counter and begin boiling water. "Yes, thank you."

"So, what bring you over here now?" She turned around to look at him. "This late at night, and alone?"

He sighed. "Abe – he insisted that you would not wish to be alone tonight, and told me to come visit you."

"Abe is very wise."

"Yes, so he says..."

She turned away and finished making the tea. When it was finished, Henry handed her a jacket, taking the cups from her.

Jo frowned at the coat. "What's this for?"

"I just thought that a breath of fresh air would be nice – and the air is refreshingly crisp outside tonight." He led the way, looking back to ensure that she was following him. Motioning her to sit down on the steps, he handed her a mug before sitting down himself.

"Thank you, for coming over."

"Of course."

His voice was light, but Jo knew that he understood everything she didn't say. She knew that he had brought her outside so she didn't have to be surrounded by memories of Sean at every turn. There were still memories outside, but there were also different memories wrapped in the cold of the air.

"You know, the day before Sean left for Washington, we got in this fight – this terrible fight." She fell silent for a moment, and was thankful for Henry's rare silence. "He went off to bed, and I went for a walk around the block. The next morning, I left early for work – there was no way I was going to apologise first."

She could see Henry's wry smile beside her; and, if she wasn't so sad, she would have joined.

"I don't even remember what the fight was about; but the last thing I said to my husband, it was in anger..." She tried to swallow back her tears, tired of crying over something she couldn't change. "And I never...I never got the chance to tell him I was sorry."

She wiped away a tear, forgetting the cup she held until he took it away to prevent its spilling. She could feel him wrap an arm around her, and wanted to hide away until she was under control again.

"You were in love, Jo – he knew."

She let out a shuddering breath, relaxing onto his shoulder; knowing he wouldn't misunderstand this.

"Trust me, he knew."

* * *

She blinked the snowflake out of her eye, sitting up. "I'm sorry, I've probably soaked your coat..."

Henry smiled, waving it off. "Even if you had, it would not be the worst substance I've had on my garments."

She laughed, taking a deep – if shaky – breath and letting it out again. "Thank you, Henry."

He shrugged, then changed the subject. "Have you been informed that Abe's thief was apprehended?"

"What? No – there actually was one?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No. He made assumptions, and proved only that police-work is not his forte."

Wiping away the last of her tears for the moment, she turned to Henry in interest. "Oh? What happened?"

"Well, let us start at the beginning – or at least the beginning of his assumptions. He had an alleged Tang Dynasty horse displayed in the shop, and found that it was missing."

Jo grinned at his exasperated look.

"Of course, then he wanted me to find it – but ignored what I said about it being fake, and likely not lost." He gestured in her direction and, noticing her cup, handed it to her as well. "When you slept at the shop, he asked you for help as well – which I tried to dissuade."

She took a sip of her tea and grimaced, spitting the cold liquid back into the cup and setting it aside. "So, what happened?"

"As he told you when you awoke, Abe had decided that a young, Asian boy had stolen the horse; and this evening, he – the boy – stopped by the shop again. Being the zealous citizen that Abe is, he called the police to inform them that there was a robbery in progress."

Jo interrupted. "Let me guess: it wasn't the boy."

"No – nor was the horse ever stolen, as I said." He paused for a moment to brush the snow out of his hair, smiling as it melted on his fingers. "The boy had moved the horse to a cupboard of sorts, as he had also seen that it was a fake. He knew a lot about antiques and such, having learned from his mother, and Abe was certainly interested in him."

Jo stared at him in amused surprise. "But what about the call he made – did he really call the cops?"

Henry smiles. "He called them back and said that it was a mistake – a conversation I'm sure was not easy to have."

She laughed. "Henry, your family gets into the oddest situations sometimes, you know that?"

He nodded, looking up at the falling snow. "Yes – but it's your family as well, Jo."

"What?" She pulled away a little in surprise.

He looked back at her. "Jo, there aren't many people who would listen to a 'friend' who tells them to crash their car – there comes a point where a friend becomes family." He looked away, studying the flakes that had lit on the railing. "Abe has adopted you as well, although that might just be in the position of a sitter."

She laughed and playfully slapped him. "Oh, Henry – you know that isn't true!"

He sighed and smiled. "Yes, I do."

* * *

Jo shivered, shaking the snow off her clothes. "We should probably go inside now; it's snowing pretty good."

He frowned. "Jo, it's snowing – why would you want to go indoors?"

She stared at him in surprised confusion. "Henry, it's snowing – why would you want to stay outdoors? Besides," She stood up and brushed off the rest of the snow, "I'm not exactly dressed for being out in the snow – I'd need much warmer clothes."

He shrugged, stepping off the steps into the street. "It doesn't take that long to warm up in the snow."

"Not tonight, Henry." She picked up her mug and turned to go into her house. Seconds later, she froze when something hit her solidly between her shoulder blades. With a gasp, she stumbled forward into the door, barely avoiding dropping her cup. Whirling around, she glared at the medical examiner, scooping up a handful of snow to wipe the smirk off his face. While the snowball him squarely in the face, something told her that he had let it.

"Henry Morgan – no snowball-" Her voice cut off as another snowball hit her. "Oh, that's it, Henry Morgan – just you wait..."

He laughed and backed up, already forming another snowball. "I wish thee the best of luck in thy challenge, Jo!"

* * *

"How did you deal with it?"

"Deal with what?" Henry looked up from the tea he was making to Jo who hung their wet clothes on a drying rack.

"With coming home to find her gone, to know she was – for all purposes – dead?"

"I didn't."

She came into the kitchen to stand beside him, wrapping a robe tightly around herself, having already changed into dry clothes. Henry had only take off his coat, as it had been thick enough to keep him dry.

"When she left, I didn't speak of it for several month – refused to address the problem, or entertain the idea that she was gone. When I finally did speak of her, I still never faced the truth that she wasn't coming back – I don't think I did for several years." He poured her a hot cup of tea and handed it to her.

"But how did you deal with it – stay in denial?"

"No." He shook his head. "No, Abe fell out of a window and it forced me to consider what I held important – whether locking myself away and breaking myself apart was worth losing the only other -"

His voice broke off, and Jo finished for him. "You didn't want to lose the only other family you had..."

He nodded. "You will heal, Jo. It will take a while, and it may feel like it's an upward climb, but you will make it. You'll never forget him, and you will always second guess yourself – but you will heal."

She sighed and took a sip of her tea, hissing at the high temperature. "Yeah, I know, Henry – and, thanks for being here tonight. Abe was right: I didn't really want to be alone."

"I understand."

Silence filled the room as they drank their tea, and Henry looked around the room. When he turned back to her and began talking, she ducked her head with a grin, knowing silence was still too much to ask.

"Jo, I want you to know that you have a part of your husband with you wherever you go."

"Yeah, I know." She frowned in confusion and held up the chain with her husband's ring on it. "This always goes with me."

"No, no." He waved the ring away. "No, you have a part of _him_ with you, a part of his soul, as it were.

"Do you remember what Celia Brown said about your husband?"

"Yeah, something about how he believed Aaron."

"She said that he 'believed when no one else would'. She also said that it was very hard to find that in the world, but I find it amazing that two such people would have met and crossed my path."

"Henry, what are you talking about?"

"You, Jo. You believed me when no one else would – or could – and I find that amazing. You're more like your husband than perhaps you know; remember that."


	9. Hitler on the Half-Shelf - Part 1

Jo watched Henry come to a realisation, and then hastily fetch...fingerprinting equipment? Still trying to connect 'respect' and 'love' with 'smashing someone over the head' and now fingerprints, she stepped closer to the slab.

"Why would the killer bother closing his eyes?"

"Because," he paused for a second to answer her question, "even the most fraught relationships between fathers and sons aren't entirely without love."

She tilted her head to the side, watching him as he began dusting Haas' eyelids for fingerprints. He was excited, having undoubtedly managed to find proof to convict the killer – or at least get a confession – but his words weren't simply ones of distanced observation: they were words learnt through experience.

"What about your father – you've never mentioned him."

His hands stilled for a second, and the restrained excitement drained out of him. He continued his work, and she watched him gather his thoughts.

"No, I don't often speak of him."

His voice was quiet; and she couldn't tell if his hesitation was because he was choosing his words to hide his secret, or because he was unsure of how to speak of it at all.

"I had always looked up to him, held him in high regard and could never have imagined that he held any sins or secrets. He was a good man – a moral man who cared for others. He ran a business, that was in much demand at the time. Others in the business used...practices, that he had denounced often – I assumed that he would never use the same."

She watched him finish lifting the fingerprints, as he focused on his work rather than looking at her while he told his story. The Doctor was still too vague – she couldn't guess what he was talking about – but she was knew that this wasn't the safety of the shop or her house, and that he could use plain terms.

He glanced up momentarily at her, giving a brief explanation with a rueful smile to clarify for her. "He had always compared these 'practices' to slavery – that they were just as poisonous. I had known that other used them, but he had always stood against them and..." He sighed.

"And you assumed that one who opposed them wouldn't use them, right?" She finished, realising what 'business' the elder Morgan had participated in, given the time frame.

"Yes. An acquaintance at the time visited, and mentioned my father's business. I stood up for him – tried to defend him – but all others already knew the truth; knew what I refused to acknowledge and had never seen.

"I had always thought myself good at seeing the truth in things – but this gift fails when it comes to those dear to me. Love, concern, respect, fear – these blind me when it comes to others, and I am easily led astray." He leaned on the desk, blindly watching the screen. "I left then. I couldn't – wouldn't – forgive him."

She blinked hard, stifling the tears that threatened to spring up. There was remorse in his voice – and not just sorrow for not seeing the secret his father had kept. "Did you ever speak to him again? Ever reconcile?"

He shook his head slowly. "No... He died shortly before I myself left...the country." He took a deep breath. "I saw him, was with him when he passed away; but I never got the chance to apologise. My last words were that I could not accept anything from him." The Doctor carefully pulled out the pocket watch he wore, rubbing a finger over the engraved surface. "He gave me his father's watch – an heirloom of sorts."

"Is that it?"

He shook his head. "That watch bore the Morgan family crest – I would not wear it through everyday life." He straightened up and slipped his watch back into his pocket. "No, I left that watch with my wife when I left, as I did not want it to be broken on the journey.

"But I regret that I had been so proud – that I did not speak with him earlier. He compromised to provide for his family, at terrible cost to himself. He made a mistake, of course; but was it really worth estranging myself for?"

Jo mentally shook her head, knowing he already knew the answer to that question.

"The ones we love the most have the most power to anger and hurt us, because we are not watching for hurt in that quarter – we are unprepared, and they have the advantage. Even if it be accidental, it still hurts worse than if it be a stranger or an enemy."

"Henry." She stepped up next to him, resting a hand on the back of his bowed neck. "Henry, for all his faults, he did at least one thing right: he raised a good man."

The Doctor's laugh was short, and he cut it off to keep from losing control. "He said the same, that 'whatever else I thought of him, he knew he had raised a good man'."

"And he was right. And, I think he understood – he was your father, and he probably had been in the same situation with his own father. If you hadn't forgiven him then, he at least knew you still loved him – otherwise you probably wouldn't have even visited him."

He sighed, taking a deep breath and relaxing himself. "Detective, while I understood what you meant – those sentences made little sense in agreement."

"Hey!" She playfully smacked his arm, smiling. "I was trying my best, and if you can only complain -"

He caught her hand. "I know, Jo – and I thank you. 'Tis far too late to remedy any mistakes I made then, but I still carry them with me. I can only attempt to learn from them, and avoid repeating them again." He dropped her hand and visibly switched back to the eccentric medical examiner that she usually dealt with, not the immortal who tried to reconcile the modern world with the other eras that shaped him.

"However, I do believe that I have the proof you can use to secure a confession from Haas' son..."


	10. Hitler on the Half-Shelf - Part 2

A sharp knock on the shop door jerked Henry out of the reverie Abe's simple comment about Adam's past had thrown him into. His son began to push himself out of his seat; but the Doctor waved him back down, getting up himself to answer it.

He undid the lock and opened the glass door. "Jo?"

"May I come in?"

"Of course!" He stepped aside and waved her in, shutting the door behind her. "How may I help you?"

"What was your theory?"

"Pardon?"

"I don't know what you're keeping secret or what your reasons are for doing so are – but so help me, if you don't tell me what those test results came back with, I'll arrest your for obstruction of justice and tampering with evidence."

He raised his hands in surrender, seeking to calm her frustration and annoyance. "Detective -"

"No. You had a theory – no, not even that: you had the answer – that you refused to share, and I want to know why, if not what." She took a deep breath.

"Then why not confront me at the morgue when I left?" He asked, both to find an answer, and to stall for a few more moments.

"Because I know there is a reason for you feeling you need to hide this, and I don't want to unearth something that will endanger you or Abe or someone else."

"If you are unwilling to endanger another, and trust I have a good reason, then why confront me at all?"

"Because this has to do with the case as well – not just your secret!" Impatiently, she dropped her purse onto a table beside her. "Henry, you can't just keep hiding secrets from me – things about your past or memories are fine; but when it pertains to my case, I should know."

He hesitated, and she sighed.

"Look, Henry – just tell me what shook you up so much. The only time I've seen you that worried was when..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes widened as she made the connection.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

Her voice was quiet when she stated: "Adam's back, isn't he."

The Doctor nodded, finally answer her question. "The DNA results came back for a man with antibodies to extinct diseases such as Bubonic Plague, Pertrussian Fever, Cyprian Cough – a multitude of illnesses that a man would have had to be over two thousand years to contract. Perhaps there might be another immortal; but 'tis highly unlikely – especially one that is also as old as he claims to be."

"So when you said that there are some things the world had no answers for..."

"Yes, I did mean immortality." He sighed, continuing with his explanation. "Adam killed Julian – but I knew there was little point in pursuing him as he would only escape us by death, if not cunning; and we would be little better off."

She frowned. "Who else saw the results?"

"Pardon?"

"The results of the DNA test – who else saw them? You work with many doctors that would recognise the age of some of those diseases; is there anything that should be done?"

"No – it will likely be marked up to an error in testing or contamination of the samples: the mind will ignore what it will not accept."

She nodded, and then shook her head with a faint smile. When he tilted his head in confusion, she explained. "The thing about some cold cases is that it's impossible to punish the culprits, but this is one cold case where the killer will outlast the files."

Henry nodded, his smile more sad than hers.

"Henry, who is – hello, Detective."

She smiled, stepping around the Doctor to greet the shop-owner. "Hey, Abe." She frowned at the familiar green book he held in his hands. "What's that?"

He glanced down at it. "It's a record of Auschwitz – of the inmates there. Adam left it here."

"Adam was here, too?" She turned back to Henry with a jerk. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened." Henry frowned. "Adam says he will not harm Abraham due to what they both suffered at the Nazi's hands." He motioned towards the slender book his son held. "The ledger that he gave Abe seems to be some sort of an apology."

"That doesn't change anything about what he did to you, or Julian, or who knows who else throughout his life." She protested.

"No, it doesn't. But the acts of his life also don't negate his apology – twisted though it may be. That he is still willing and able to make amends means there is hope for him yet."

She was silent for a moment before surrendering to Henry's argument – half out of agreement, half out of knowing he was unlikely to change his mind. "Fine – but the moment I'm able to, I'll still arrest him for at least two counts of murder." She gestured towards the ledger. "But a record of Auschwitz's prisoners? I know Abe collects antiques; but why would that serve as an apology to you, Henry?"

Henry hesitated, glancing towards his son for direction. Abe shrugged and explained, joy lighting up his eyes.

"The record...Auschwitz was where my parents were – where I was born. This ledger tells me who they were."

"Oh, Abraham – that's wonderful!" She exclaimed, mentally setting the matter of Adam aside for another day. "I'm glad you were able to find out. Not that they were there, of course – just that you now know who they were, and -"

He interrupted her. "It's fine. I know what you meant. Hey," He hesitated, "Did you want to come?"

"Come? Where?"

Henry reentered the conversation. "Tomorrow, we will go down to the Archives to see if there is anything from his parents there."

"Oh, but I wouldn't want to intrude – I mean, that's personal; and that's your family..."

"Jo. You're family too, remember? Come on – I want you to."

She hesitated, but could hear the sincerity in Abe's voice. With no objection forthcoming from Henry, she agreed. "Fine – but I'll drive. Henry would probably be a sterling example of why horses bolted from automobiles -"

"I take offense at that remark," He protested, taking off his coat.

"Well, deal with it. And you, Abe, will be too distracted to drive safely. I'll at least get us there with minimal casualties."

"Yes, very funny, Detective – I'll have you know I had the best teacher."

"Oh? Did Abigail teach you?"

"No. Experience did."

She laughed, nearly collapsing when she saw the affronted expression on Henry's face. It was nice to see confirmation that this discovery of Abe's wouldn't change anything between the two of them – that Henry would still be Abe's father.


	11. Hitler on the Half-Shelf - Part 3

When they stepped into the quiet, dark building, she had immediately broken away from the two and found a table to sit at. Abe had tried to stop her, but she told him she was just finding a place for them; so they wouldn't have to worry about it. Henry offered her a smile; but although he was happy for his son, there was a sorrow in him as well.

It had been an...interesting, ride to the Archives. Abe had called shotgun and left the backseat to Henry, to her amusement; and had been fidgeting with energy the whole time. He hadn't spoken, and Henry had been lost in his thoughts as well; but the atmosphere had been filled with words that none of them could say.

Now, she watched as they waited at the counter for the lady to return with any information or possessions. Abe was tense – both expectant and guarded. He wanted to know, but was afraid that there would be nothing new. Beside him, Henry stood still. He was happy, but he was also undecided as to whether or not he wanted there to be anything.

She tapped her fingers on the table in a simple rhythm, craning her neck to look around the still building. That places like this should exist, that there should be any memories of such a tragedy made her sick. Not that she thought it should have been forgotten, but that it should have happened at all. A smile smile appeared on her face as her thoughts turned to Henry and immortality again: there were so many deaths already uncounted from the camps, but how many were suffered by the same man?

As Henry and Abe sat down beside her, she shut those thoughts away, focusing on the small box Abe held in his hands. He opened the box slowly, pulling out the picture carefully – as if it would disappear.

"Well, I guess I know now where I get my good looks." Abe held the picture out to Jo and Henry, trying to lighten the situation a little.

She glanced at the picture before handing it to Henry, noticing that there weren't any children. She wondered if this had been before any were born, or if Abe had no siblings anywhere.

"That's...good – I'm glad, Abraham."

Abe accepted the picture again, and Jo reached out to take Henry's hand.

"You know, I'm glad they were in in the camp."

The Doctor tensed, shocked. "Abraham!"

"If they hadn't been in the camp, you wouldn't have found and adopted me." He stated, carefully putting the picture back in the box, looking over the few other belongings that were alongside it. His voice was quiet as he added, "I may have found my parents, but the one that mattered has always been there."

For a moment, Henry just stared at his son, as if uncertain he had heard correctly; and then Jo felt him relax. "Yes, that is understandable."

Abe grinned, teasing again to offer a way out of the emotions. "Well, I wouldn't go that far – hey, Jo, Are you busy? Now I can start finding out others in my family, and we know he won't help, so I was wondering if you want to help..."

She smiled, shaking her head at the easy banter the two had slipped back into. "Probably not today – but I'd love to hear what you find."

"Oh, of course – I can't imagine Henry getting terribly excited over this, so you get to listen."

Henry shook his head with a smile. "If it pleases you, then I'm sure I will have an interest in it."

Abe nodded his head, once again looking at the picture. "I still can't believe it, after all this time..."

Jo turned back to Abe. "What I can't believe is just how you found out. I'd tell you to thank him, but under the circumstances..."

"No, let's not pursue that. And Abraham?" He waited until his son looked up to continue. "I really am happy for you."

Abe smiled. "Yeah, I know, Henry."


	12. King of Columbia Circle - Part 1

"So, proper operating theatre?"

Henry looked up from the notes he was making about the latest victim when the Detective entered the morgue. "Pardon?"

Jo glanced over the body again, knowing that she would never have thought anything of it had she not known Henry's secret. "Yes – what you said about the appendectomy scar."

He returned to his notes. "Why do you ask?"

"Because, you were willing to label it natural until you saw that scar – and you recognised it." She waited for a comment, but none was forthcoming. "So, who was he? When did you meet him?"

Henry glanced up with a half-smile. "Will you let this rest?"

"Likely not – at the least I want to know why you're determined to be so thorough with this."

He laid his notes aside and straightened up, giving her his attention. "I met him in 1955. He was a young boy – only perhaps ten or twelve – and was ill. As a physician, I was called to treat him, and diagnosed him with acute appendicitis.

"I had to operate immediately; but was without recourse to anesthesia, sterilisation, assistants – I improvised."

"Aren't these type of incisions supposed to be straight? I can't imagine you were nervous when you did this."

"No." The Doctor's answering smile was wry. "We were aboard a train, which was traveling quite fast; and it would sway at the most inopportune moments."

"A train? Where were you?"

"Europe, at the time – I was on a holiday of sorts."

"A holiday? And you brought surgical tools?"

"Yes. I have learnt to be prepared – and 'tis easier to supply an alternative for anesthesia or sterilisation than it is to supply an adequate alternative to the scalpels and other instruments needed for surgery." He marked another note down on the paper.

"So why the need to be certain? I mean, I understand he was a patient once – but that was a long time ago; he probably still died a natural death."

"Perhaps. But nevertheless, I should be quite certain – the results may be surprising."

She sighed. "Fine – but I hope you don't find anything surprising. We have enough cases as it is."

"I quite agree, Detective."

She half turned to go, but then came back. "By the way, how is Abe's research into his family tree coming along?"

Henry sighed. "He is...making progress. He began to go through the telephone book this morning to attempt to find relatives, and then work out from there."

"That's good." She frowned when she could see the sorrow in the Doctor's posture again. "Henry, it's not like he'll leave you now."

"Oh, I know that, Detective – I do." He answered, his voice sounding more as if he were trying to convince himself rather than her.

"...But it still feels like he's trying to replace you."

"Yes. I certainly cannot begrudge him the discovery, of course, as all long for family to claim; but perhaps it reminds me too much of what I cannot have."

She sighed, seeing her partner grow more tense as he spoke. "Henry, you can – and do – have the same. There's Abe and I for your immediate family, Lucas and Hanson for extended – even Reese too."

"I do believe you have told me the same before, Jo." His small smile was teasing.

"And apparently it didn't stick, so I've got to say it again." She smiled. "Now, you go back to your autopsy and find _nothing_ ; and I'll go back to work on the report."

"Many thanks, Detective."

She waved it off, already heading back towards the elevator. "It's nothing, Henry – stay out of trouble!"

His smile was sincere as she left and he returned completely to his notes. "I shall try, Detective."


	13. King of Columbia Circle - Part 2

"Henry, what are you doing? A Geiger Counter, really?"

"Well, anyone, or anything, that comes into contact with the poison will have trace amounts of radiation."

She sighed and shook her head slightly while he explained. "Well, as long as we are in this consulate, we are guests on foreign soil – and I thought you weren't going to find anything either, Henry." She turned slightly towards him.

"I only said that I shared your hopes – not that I wouldn't find anything. But my apologies nevertheless."

"Yeah – I'm not entirely sure that Reece believes I wasn't looking for anything."

"I never meant to cause you any trouble, Detective -"

"Henry. It's fine." She smiled. "It's better that we found it, than to have missed the poison and left a murderer free. Just because you make more work for us doesn't mean it's entirely unappreciated."

He glace sideways at her for a moment, trying to see if she spoke the truth; and he accepted it. "Very well, Jo."

As they stepped forward in line, she looked around the Consulate. As she did, she realised something: "This is my first time on foreign soil..."

Henry glanced at her and then nodded at the people working at the desk. "Perhaps you should get your passport stamped."

"Well, not all of us can go to the real Urkesh," She returned. She was silent, and then glanced over at the Doctor. "When were you there? Were you in the country at the time, or did you visit earlier?"

"It was 1955."

She nodded, and frowned slightly when she could feel him pull himself tighter beside her – closing himself off again.

"What were you doing there?" She asked, not letting him keep closing her out all of the time.

He glanced at her for a moment before looking around the walls of the consulate. "It was my honeymoon."

"You and Abigail?"

"Yes."

He was silent, and she was almost certain that he wouldn't continue; almost regretting asking him the question.

"We went from Budapest to Istanbul on the Orient Express – it was ten years late, but nonetheless."

She smiled, relaxing slightly as she stepped forward again. At least this was a happier memory. "Now that, is insanely romantic."

The Doctor smiled softly. "She thought so too..."

Jo was quiet, thinking of the honeymoon Henry had taken, and what might have happened, and the famous train... "Henry."

"Yes?"

"Did you perform an appendectomy on your _honeymoon_? Why in the world did you bring your tools?"

"She was a nurse as well – we both did. Perform the surgery, that is. Perhaps I am overly cautious, but I prefer to be prepared for anything – no matter how improbable."

"And there weren't any other doctors that could have helped? Why didn't you just send them away – it was your honeymoon, after all."

"No, there were not else I would have sent for assistance. As for why I helped, he was someone's child – our honeymoon had already been delayed; a little longer would do no harm. And I cannot stand by and let someone die."

"'Always be prepared'..."

"The Hippocrates Oath would be better suited; I fear I am a bit to old to have been a Boy Scout."

She smiled at his teasing. "Just by a few years."

They stepped forward again in line, and Henry asked a question: "And you? Where did you go on your honeymoon?"

Her smile faltered for a moment as she shoved back the sadness that the memories still brought. "Sean and I went to the Taj Mahal."

Henry blinked and then turned to look at her in amazement; and then confusion as he tried to match that with her statement of never being out of America before.

She chuckled. "As in Trump Taj, Atlantic City." She smiled with Henry as he understood the joke, and then sighed. "We were both busy working on cases when we got married, and we thought we'd always plan our real one..."

She looked away, finding the memories too hard, and wishing the conversation hadn't been brought up. How did he deal with it? With everything reminding him of something, or someone? People said that time healed all wounds; but what happened when time only brought more, layering them over the scars of the old ones? She would wonder how he survived all this time with his sanity and soul intact, but she suspected that others held them together for him.

"Guess you never know what Fate has in store."


	14. King of Columbia Circle - Part 3

Did she know that Asif would shoot at her – that his original target did not hold her child?

Henry tilted his head, watching the sleeping woman and listening to the steady beep of the monitors. She had seemed convinced that her child was dead while on the way to the hospital – had she been hoping to die; that Asif would kill her?

"Henry."

He stepped away from the glass, shutting away his wandering thoughts at focusing on the Detective. "Ah, and who do we have here?"

She cradled the infant, smiling. "I told child services I'd look after him until his mom wakes up." Glancing up, she caught Henry's soft smile. Her own widened as she straightened up. "What?"

"Nothing. Just used to you kicking down doors and shooting perpetrators."

She twisted slightly away from him, hearing something beneath his words – as if he pretended to be focused on the image of _her_ with a child rather than her with a _child_. Still smiling happily, she stepped towards him. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Of course."

She gently placed the infant into the Doctor's already waiting arms, knowing she was right when he pulled the child close. When the nurse assumed that the baby was hers and Henry's, she hastened to correct her; and Jo didn't know whether to be embarrassed or pleased that she had been mistaken as Henry's partner. He seemed unaffected by the mistake, still enamored with the child he held; so she ignored it.

"He seems to like you." She mentioned, her voice and smile soft. How long had it been since he had just held a baby? At least since Abe, but had there been others? Or perhaps before that? He had mentioned trying with Nora, and surely he had relatives; but it seemed he never tired of children. She sighed as he smiled, stroking the child's hair and watching the curious, young eyes.

"Did you and Abigail ever..." Uncertain how to phrase it, or even if she should mention it, Jo trailed off.

"Think about having children?" He finally looked away from the infant for a moment, letting the boy grasp his finger. "Yes, once. Well, I say once..." He trailed off, looking back to the child he held. "She always wanted more, but I couldn't bear the possible pain of bringing another child into the world."

"But you had Abe already, even if he was adopted – and look at all of the joy he's brought you."

"She pointed out the same; but I knew I would lose them eventually, and was frightened."

"The great Henry Morgan, scared of something?"

His answering smile was wry. "Believe me, Jo, bravery is not something that I have in abundance – idiocy, perhaps..."

"Oh, Henry. You're very brave – and sometimes, the idiots and the courageous are one and the same."

He sighed, and seemed to ignore her for several moments. She was content to watch him with the child, happy with the peaceful smile he wore. After a wile, the smile widened and he looked up again.

"While a ride on the Orient Express might be 'insanely romantic', I doubt Abigail would have described the beginning as such."

"Oh?" Intrigued, she leaned towards him. "Why's that?"

"Well, we had just moved into our cabin aboard the Express, and were debating the liabilities and virtues of expanding our family."

Her mouth fell open. "Henry! She wants to have children and you're speaking of it as if it's a business decision?" She frowned. "Speaking of children, where was Abe during this trip? You said it was ten years after – I doubt he wanted any part of this."

Henry smiled. "Yes, but I often did." He sighed. "'Tis easier to avoid any thought of what might have been if not thinking of it as something personal. And as for Abraham," the Doctor's grin returned, "He certainly would rather have come – regardless of what his mother said. We left him with his grandparents in England, and I fear he still has not forgiven me."

She smiled. "Well, he probably would have found it very boring."

"Rather – and it would have defeated the purpose of the honeymoon." He laughed with the child.

"Did you not agree with Abigail then?" She continued, assuming the subject safe as he brought it up.

"I did, and yet I didn't – I love children, but I could not bear to see another pass before me.

"As it happens, the choice was taken from my hands first when an officer summoned me to treat the Prince, and again when the King came to thank us. And to invite us to dinner."

She interrupted, "You met the King of Urkesh – the old King?"

"Yes." He looked at her again with a slight frown. "Why is that surprising? He would not have left his son alone then."

"I guess it's just hard to picture any real person meeting royalty – let alone dining with them."

He smiled. "Well, you have met with the Princess of Urkesh, and held a prince. And you are quite real, I assure you."

She laughed. "You know what I meant, Henry. But you got to eat with him?"

"Yes – he had people already waiting in the corridor for our agreement; and stayed long. Later, he apologised for 'boring my wife to sleep on our honeymoon'."

"Yeah, I can't imagine that would have gone very well..."

"No. Thankfully, it was nothing new," He ignored Jo's rolled eyes and continued, "And it had been ten years waiting."

"So, he just talked with you?"

"Yes. We discussed many subjects; including, after my wife had retired, fatherhood." His voice softened, and he rocked the quiet infant. "He said that he didn't want to burden his son, that he wanted him to grow up to be something other than a king. He was sending him away from Urkesh, saving his life..." He sighed, and pulled the child closer. He chuckled again, but it was no longer as sincere. "I fear that I have burdened my own son with more things than a kingship – and he would likely agree. Perhaps not with ruling being a burden, but nonetheless."

She sighed. "Well, you may say that now; but he wouldn't have changed it."

He looked up from the infant at her, and the walls had fallen from within his eyes. "And you know this for certain? That he would not change anything?"

"Oh, I never said that. He would probably spend more time with his mother, less time complaining as a child, more time studying for school, more time listening to you, less time arguing with you, making different decisions in Vietnam..." She trailed off. "But I do know one thing: he wouldn't give up being with you, being your son. You might go on after he dies, but he treasures every moment he's spent with you."

He turned slightly from her, looking away again. "But not all have the bond of family to hold them together, I fear..."

"Well, Nora was your wife, and apparently that didn't hold her by you very long anyway. Henry," She paused, trying to find a different way to say this. "Henry, sometimes adopted family can be stronger than blood. After all, water can wash away blood."

He didn't respond for a moment, but then a small smile lit his eyes as he turned back to her in amusement. "I believe you have mangled that saying..."

She grinned. "Well, didn't they tell us in Geometry that the converse of a theorem is true?"

"Or something like that..."

She stepped back, smiling as she watched the child play with Henry's scarf. Suddenly, Henry looked up; and she turned to see a woman approaching them.

"Mrs. Arnov – it's a surprise to see you here..."

"I heard she was injured, and wanted to meet her. Though she may not be mine by birth, I would still like to know her." The widow looked around Jo to Henry, and the child he still held. "What a lovely child you have..."

Jo was already shaking her head to correct the lady, but Henry shifted to offer her the infant.

"Would you like to hold your grandson?"

She gasped, and then slowly nodded, holding out her arms for the child and accepting him with a gentle smile. "Oh, he is perfect..."

Henry smiled, stepping back and folding his hands behind his back. "Indeed."

Suddenly, she looked up. "But his mother was shot - where will he stay?"

Jo stepped in again. "I had just offered to watch him until his mother woke up, which she should be doing soon. If you'd like, you can probably wait with him in the room – meet her then."

She nodded slowly, almost as entranced with the boy as Henry had been. When Jo stepped aside, she nodded her thanks and carried the infant into the room, rocking him gently.

Jo sighed, smiling. Suddenly, she turned to Henry. "But you looked more adorable with him."

He stared at her for a moment and then laughed. "Jo, you are..." He gave up and shook his head.

She grinned, grabbing his arm. "Come on, Henry – let's get you home. Has Abe made any progress with his family tree?"

"Well, there was this one Scottish cousin – and apparently the liking for Scotch is genetic..."


	15. King of Columbia Circle - Part 4

Jo knocked on the door of the shop, looking down the street at the cars and people passing. When she had dropped Henry off the night before, he had invited her in; but she had declined, telling him that she would visit in the morning to hear from Abe about his newest discoveries. She smiled as she recalled the amusement with which he had assured her that Abe would likely have uncovered something new in her absence and would be delighted to share it with her.

Now, she stood on the step of the shop, yawning and wondering if anyone was awake. Just as she raised her hand to knock again, she heard someone coming; and stepped back as Abe hastily opened the door.

"Jo! Guess what I found out yesterday?"

She shook her head at Henry's accurate prediction. "I've no clue, can I have a hint?"

"It has to do with my family tree."

She thought about it, shifting her weight from foot to foot and trying to ignore Abe's vibrating energy.

"Abraham Morgan! Do be a gentleman and at least invite her in before you pester her!"

"What? Oh. Come on in, Jo."

"Why, thank you. And you're related to someone famous."

"Oh, definitely."

Henry wandered into the front of the shop, smiling softly. "Well, I wouldn't go so far as to say that."

"Now, don't spoil the fun, Henry – just because you couldn't guess doesn't mean she can't. Besides, she's a detective."

"Abe, are you saying that I would not have been able to guess?"

"No."

Jo laughed. "If _he_ wouldn't have guessed it, how am I supposed to? He's got at least two centuries of experience on me – I'm afraid I'll have to forfeit."

"Oh fine. But," Abe pointed at the Doctor and the Detective, "I'll have you know that neither of you are any fun. Jo!" He turned fully back to her. "I'm related to Henry!"

She blinked at him and then frowned in confusion. "Well, of course you are – you're his son. I did hear that the first time around..."

"No, no, no..." He shook his head. "Literally related by blood. We're blood relatives."

"What?" She turned her gaze to Henry, watching the happiest smile settle on his face – as if he had been told for the first time that he had a child. She looked back to Abe as he grinned back at her. "Really? You traced your line back to Henry? But, I thought he said Nora never had children..."

"She didn't. I actually traced it back to an uncle of his – an uncle..."

"Dennis." Henry supplied.

"Yeah, him. Dennis Longworth. Anyway, according to people who knew him, he was a cad and a scoundrel -"

She laughed. "Do you even know what a 'cad is'?"

"Not really – but Henry does, and he knew the guy, so I'll trust his judgment. Anyway!" He went back to his original subject. "As I was saying, he wasn't a gentleman, and he had an illegitimate kid. Which then had another kid, which had another, and eventually resulted in yours truly." He bowed.

She grinned and then hugged Abe, ignoring his sudden tension. "Oh, that's wonderful Abe!"

He stood there silently for a moment, and then hesitantly brought his arms up to return the hug. "Yeah, it is." He answered softly.

"And Henry," She let Abe go and turned to the Immortal, "Now you've an even closer bond with him. If it were possible."

His smile was fond as he shook his head. "I believe it would be hard to overcome."

She nodded, then playfully slapped Henry's arm. "And, just so you know, you're probably the most famous person in history."

"Pardon?"

"Well, you show up the most, and have lived through the most, and have seen the most – and, if you weren't hiding, would be the best known. Often, the famous people are just the people who made the biggest difference; and you're not done making yours yet."


	16. Memories of Murder - Part 1

"I had forgotten what this feels like."

Jo carefully sat down in the seat beside Henry, turning towards him. "What's that?"

"Being scared – vulnerable."

"That's what happens when you open yourself up..."

He sighed and leaned back in his seat, looking up at the corner of the ceiling. "Yes..."

She glanced at the door of the waiting room, watching the staff walk past on various errands.

"It's easy to forget mortality sometimes..."

She turned back to the Doctor. "Excuse me?"

"'Tis easy to forget that all those around you will pass on eventually – that even the most promising lives will be cut short."

"But they can still accomplish a lot even with a shorter life – most people do."

"But the ones that matter never live long enough."

"No, I suppose they don't – but would you really wish immortality on them?"

He opened his mouth and then shut it again, shaking his head. "No. That would accomplish nothing worthwhile save more heartbreak for all involved. And the brevity makes the moments all the more necessary to treasure."

"Yeah – I suppose one just has to remember that."

He nodded his head, and then smiled as a memory came to mind. "It had been quite cold the night before the scene was discovered, and a pipe burst in the shop. Abraham checked, and only one box was soaked through."

"Oh? I hope there was nothing very important in there."

"It was a box of his old mementos – bronze booties, old report cards, photographs..."

"Was it salvageable?"

"Abe didn't plan to keep it – and I would be unable to keep it forever. Inside, there was Abigail's recipe book – the one she had always written her favourites in." His smile softened as he remembered. "She made the best lasagna – Abraham has inherited her skills, but the recipes were apparently not all genetic."

"Do you cook?"

"I've learnt, over the years. It was quite necessary at times, but I am not the chef that Abe is nor Abigail was. And you, Detective? Do you cook?"

"Yes, I learned as a kid. I don't cook as much since...Sean died, but I still do over the weekends."

He nodded, and they fell back into silence again as they waited for any news. Suddenly, he turned back to her. "Do you have anything planned or made for tonight?"

"No, I was just going to warm up some leftovers in the microwave and go to sleep."

He grimaced. "Then it is good that I thought to ask."

She smiled as he continued and shook her head.

"Would you come over for dinner tonight? I know Abraham would love to have you over again, and I always enjoy your company."

"If it wouldn't be a trouble?"

"Oh, no – no trouble at all beyond an extra place at the table and a few extra dishes to wash. Abe usually fixes extra at meals to provide for lunch the next day, so you would be welcome."

"Thanks, I'd be happy to come. And Henry?" She pulled his attention back from the watch he'd pulled out to check the time again. "I'm sure Molly's going to be just fine."


	17. Memories of Murder - Part 2

"Please, come in. I called Abe earlier so his meal will either be almost finished or kept warm."

"Good." She stepped inside the shop, already shedding her coat and hat and shaking out her hair. "It just seems permanently cold outside..."

He took her coat, stepping back to hang it up in the wardrobe. "Spring will come eventually, Jo – it always has."

"Yeah – and what _is_ that smell?"

He paused and smelled the air, leading the way to the kitchen. "Abraham? Is that -"

"Mom's lasagna! With secret sauce!"

Jo leaned up against the counter between the two men, reaching around Abe's spoon to snag a piece of Italian sausage from the sauce. "Wow – this is really good, Abe!"

"I found Mom's recipe book in an old box upstairs -"

"Yes, and as I recall, you had consigned all of that to a landfill somewhere..."

"Well, it turns out that despite my ever-youthful, forward-thinking, when it came down to throwing away Mom's old recipes, I just couldn't do it. I held this old cookbook in my hands, and all of a sudden I remembered coming home from school and that smell..."

Henry smiled. "Abigail's cooking."

"What's in there?"

"Nope!" Abe smacked Jo's fingers away again, shaking his head. "'Secret' sauce – even Henry doesn't know what's in it."

"Well, how is someone else supposed to make it then?"

"With the recipe – I'll leave it around somewhere for when I'm gone."

"Hm. Yes. I'm sure." Henry took a deep breath. When he spoke again, it was quiet. "It's almost like she's here again." He closed his eyes, his fingers tapping out a melody on the countre.

Abe rolled his eyes, layering the noodles atop the sauce. "He told Mom that it was a Pavlovian response – that the smell of her lasagna made him want to dance with a beautiful woman." He grimaced and shook his head. "I'm sitting at the table being tortured with the smell of Mom's delicious lasagna, and he wants to waste time _dancing_ – it just didn't make sense..."

Jo laughed at the humour and disgust mixed in Abe's voice, and glanced over to see the Doctor smiling fondly at his son.

"Good memories..."

"Yes." He nodded slowly, leaning on the countre and watching Abraham. "Memories to always be treasured."


	18. Social Engineering - Part 1

"Great news. Cyber Crimes Division is on the case..."

The Doctor looked up from the body at the Detective's voice, smiling for a moment at the wry note in it. "Cyber Crimes? There is such a thing?"

"Yeah." She stepped closer to the slab and looked over the victim again, relaxing somewhat. "We've got computer dating, computer viruses; why not computer cops?" She watched Henry return most of his attention to the corpse, inspecting the thoracic cavity. "Press a button: boom! Who needs actual evidence..." She tilted her head to try to see what Henry was doing, wanting something to seem normal on this case. "What do you have?"

He straightened up and she settled back to listen to him summarise his findings. Something about her life should probably be reevaluated and changed when _Henry_ was the only normal part in it...

"Time of death was between three-forty and four A.M. two days ago. Victim was otherwise in good health, with no suspicious marks or injuries."

Henry held up a red-labeled plastic bag with black...gunk in it, and Jo grimaced and pulled away. "What is that?"

"The victim's last meal," He paused to glance over the bag, "Pasta Nero – squid ink. Otherwise," Henry set the bag of stomach contents aside and looked back to the Detective, "Eric Shaw died as he lived: with his secrets hidden."

She sighed. "Maybe they're right. Murder by computer, solve by computer..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked away. Suddenly, she grimaced. "Do you suddenly feel very old?"

Henry's hand froze for a moment in what he was doing, and he glanced up at her. "Yes, I do know the feeling."

"Right." She shifted her weight back to lean on the table. "It's easy to forget that little detail... Just how _have_ you dealt with it all?"

"Dealt with it?" He straightened up, leaving his work for the moment. "I'm sure there are some to argue that I have not."

She shook her head. "Henry, you know what I meant. Considering as you're not dressed as Fitzwilliam Darcy, I'd say you've dealt with a lot of it. You might not own a computer or a cell phone – but you still do alright."

He smiled softly. "Indeed – I shall have to mention your words to Abe during a conversation at some point. I'm quite sure he would have a rebuttel."

She grinned. "Abe has a 'rebuttel' for everything. But really, how?"

"Error and necessity. It was easier before, when many shunned the use of the new inventions themselves – I had ample time to master and acquaint myself with their uses. Now, all changes so quickly, and I have stepped out of the stream as it may be since..." He sighed.

"Since Abigail?"

He nodded in answer. She let the silence rest for a moment before redirecting the conversation to lighter waters.

"So, what was the easiest invention to learn?"

"The simplest? Perhaps..." He thought about it for a moment. "The ballpoint pen."

"What? No, that doesn't count!"

"It is an invention, Jo – thus, it is eligible."

"Besides that then?"

"Flatware."

"Excuse me?"

"Plates."

"Henry!" She reached across the corpse to slap the Doctor. Smiling, he leaned back out of reach; and then jumped forward to steady her when she nearly fell into the opened body.

She steadied herself on her side of the slab. "Thanks."

"'Twas nothing. Possibly the telephone."

She blinked, trying to figure out what he was talking about now. "Oh! Alright. And the most useful?"

"I think I must say electricity – so much depends upon it now that the world would be quite different without it.

"The worst?"

"Is there no end to your questioning?" Henry teased. "While Abraham would say that I think the microwave is," He ignored her grin and continued, "In my opinion, the camera may hold that rank.

"The camera? Why?"

"Jo. Can you think of no reason why having images of me throughout the years may present a difficulty?" He sighed. "Heredity and family resemblances will only be sufficient for so long."

"There is that...But what about -" She cut herself off as she realised that Henry was speaking again.

"...also the best invention."

"The best _and_ the worst?"

"Yes – life so rarely fits in just _one_ category. But the camera, it is both the best and the most problematic. Memory can only suffice for so long, Detective – sometimes images need to be captured elsewhere to treasure." Suddenly, he straightened up and returned to his work, shutting down the conversation. "Did they confirm how the gas was triggered?"

She shook her head sadly at the reemergence of the walls, but understanding his need for them. "Yes. Remotely, between one and four in the morning."

"Hm." He frowned and glanced over the body again, mumbling, "So, gas flows anywhere between... Wouldn't have filled the room, but he was in bed. Fatal density would have to reach two or three feet off the ground..." He turned to untie the apron he wore. "It could work."

"Could?"

"Well, most likely – there's only one way to know for certain."

She frowned. "How's that?"

He smiled. "We go gas ourselves."


	19. Social Engineering - Part 2

Still in her coat and shoes, Jo lay on Eric Shaw's bed, staring at the ceiling. As she did, she tried to ignore the faint smudge left on the glass of the mask she wore – she hadn't noticed it at first, but now it seemed to take up all of her view. Forcibly pushing it out of her mind, she turned her head slightly towards Henry.

"Why wouldn't he have woken up?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, he asphyxiated – wouldn't he have woken up once his mind figured out that he wasn't getting enough oxygen."

"Perhaps if it had been sudden; but at the incremental rate at which the oxygen was displaced, his awakening would have been – and was – unlikely. No, the brain shuts down to conserve oxygen, and by the time it reached that point, it had been too slow to raise any alarms."

"That makes sense – so pretty much dying in his sleep. I suppose there are worse ways to go..."

"True – fire for instance: every nerve in agony..."

"Hm." She was silent for a moment as she thought about it. "Drowning. The panic..."

"Yes – although, physiologically, not so far removed from this. You want to avoid things involving the sensory nerves..."

Jo shook her head slightly as his voice grew somewhat excited with the subject. What was it with death that so enchanted him? Well, besides the part where it was forever out of his reach – but still. Normal people just didn't get that tone in their voice when discussing...being flayed alive.

Granted, normal people also weren't immortal, so there was that...

"...Oh! And starvation. It takes longer than you think. Your body floods with toxins from your liver as you slowly digest your own tissues – your brain atrophies, and you literally lose your mind."

She grimaced. "Henry. Do I even want to know whether you speak from the voice of personal experience or medical knowledge?"

"Probably not, Detective."

She sighed. "Then that means..."

"'Tis complicated. While I was a doctor first, it was in a less informed time. As I died, I learnt more; and eventually the field of medicine taught the same to all. So the voice is from both parts."

She was quiet, thinking it over while he checked the concentration of gas again. "You know, that's really sad."

"Indeed, Jo – but, as others have said, it gives me a unique tool to assist others."

"Like lighting someone's hand on fire, or using sour milk and baking powder to save someone's life, or..."

He smiled. "Yes, something like that – although, I fear that I must correct you and say that it was baking _soda_ , not powder that I used."

She waved her hand in his direction. "Semantics... Baking soda, baking powder...what's the difference?"

"Well, the difference is in acid and reactions -"

"Nevermind, Henry..." She smiled.

The two lay there in silence, waiting for the time to finish. Suddenly, Jo rolled over to face the Doctor.

"How do you not get tired?"

"By sleeping." He turned to face her, checking the readout again.

She smiled and shook her head slightly. "No, I mean, how do you not get tired of living and dying? What do you do when you get too tired?"

He smiled, but it was thin. "I suppose the obvious answer would be 'don't get tired', but that only prolongs the inevitable. As for how to avoid it, living helps." He sighed. "It hurts, and is the cause for the exhaustion in the first place – but it still helps."

She felt heavy, as though she could never rise from the bed again – but she knew that it was more the silence in the room rather than the gas.

He rolled away from her, staring up at the ceiling again. "And when no one's there? I die. Over and over and over again..."

She winced. She reached out and grasped his hand. "Henry, it doesn't matter if you die. No matter how many times you fall, as long as you get up and keep going on the other side then it doesn't matter."

For a moment, he didn't respond; and she wondered if he had heard her quiet voice. Just as the alarm beeped, he squeezed her hand for a second before springing out of bed and taking off his mask.

"Henry! What are you doing!" She sat up and moved towards his side of the bed.

"The levels of gas are quite low. See – this window is badly sealed and some of the gas would have escaped here. While it might have rendered him unconscious, the concentration of gas was not enough to have been fatal in that time." He turned back from the window to face her as she pulled off her own mask. "Don't worry, Jo – I'm not that tired yet."


	20. Social Engineering - Part 3

"Oh no – don't tell me we have to move again. We just got here!"

"Abraham. You have been here for many, many years." Henry glanced up from the paper he was trying to fill out. "Why would you assume that we are moving, or that I am the cause of it?"

"Henry. You're filling out a death certificate. Usually, when you fill one out at home and spend time dallying over it, it's yours and you're going to disappear again. And I meant 'just got here' in comparison to the many centuries you've lived – you've got to admit that it puts things in perspective." Abe frowned and made his way around the table to the opposite side of the kitchen. "But I certainly didn't go pick you up last night, and I doubt there's anyone to recognise you – so what's wrong now?"

Henry smiled slightly, watching his son prepare coffee before explaining. "Firstly, this is not for me – nor you, nor anyone else that you know," He hastened to continue. "A girl – Liz Chamberlain – somehow appeared – hacked, whatever one would call it – on a computer monitor in the office while I was alone and threatened to send the truth behind my current personal files to the NYPD – or at least point out the errors within and expose their fraud - and to my partner." He sighed and tapped a finger on the paper.

Abe nodded. "I see. So, this lady just pops up on the computer and threatens blackmail?"

Henry stared at the form. "Yes." As Abe set his cup and saucer down across the table from him, Henry elaborated. "She's one's of the Faceless – she hacked my personal file."

"So, what does she want?"

"She wants me to kill her." When Abe looked up from his coffee, Henry explained. "Provide her with a fraudulent death certificate of her own."

Abe huffed. "You should have told her that she has to die first to get one – that she can just stop by the shop to pick it up on her way back from the river."

"Now, Abraham. Just because she's discovered that I'm hiding something does not require that we reveal all." He sighed. "Revealing naught would be infinitely more preferable..."

"Yeah, well, we don't always get what we want." He reached for the certificate, glancing over it. "Well, there's not much here right now..." Sitting down, he slid the form back to Henry. "What exactly is she going to do if you don't give in?"

"She'll go to my partner and reveal that I'm a fraud." He leaned back and let his pen fall to the table. "What do I do, Abe?"

Abe looked at him for a moment before answering. "Are you sure that's the right question to ask?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, remember what happened the last time the truth about your condition came out?"

Henry winced. "I have never forgotten..."

Abe rolled his eyes. "No, not Nora, or any of the other medievally-minded people who decided it was a bad thing and justified your paranoia. No, I mean the recent time. Remember? Argument, midnight, slip of the tongue, too much tea to ever be considered healthy..." He trailed off, waiting for Henry to make the connection.

The Doctor frowned. "Jo? Whatever would she have to do with this? She cannot -"

Sometimes, Henry's blindness to the most obvious things amazed him. "Henry. Your 'partner'."

Realisation lit up Henry's eyes, and the nervousness and worry he had been holding seemed to simply drain away. "But, of course – how could I have forgotten."

"Probably because you are very paranoid..."

Henry frowned slightly. "It is justified, as you yourself said."

"Yeah, well, 'justified' isn't the same as 'healthy'. When are you going to tell her?"

"Soon – why?"

"Because I don't want to get arrested for obstructing justice or something."

"I assure you that that won't happen."

Abe sigh in mild exasperation."You can say that now, but when you inevitably hold back information and it gets you killed in front of Jo? Then it's a very real possibility. Especially if I knew anything about _anything_ about the case."

The Doctor's answer smile was wry as he tilted his head in acceptance of his son's point. Hearing the door of the shop open, he couldn't resist teasing Abe. "Your faith in me is touching, Abraham – truly. Why do you and Jo both assume that this occupation will lead to my inescapable demise?"

"Because you have zero regard for your own safety. Good morning, Abe!"

"Aren't you bright and cheery – good morning, Jo!"

Henry turned to face the Detective, smiling. "Good morning, Detective."

"Salutations!" She answered, in a higher voice, dropping her purse on a nearby countre top as she greeted the men.

Abe groaned. "Just so you know, I hate that book... And before you ask, Henry, it's _Charlotte's Web_."

"Ah. Of course. Salutations, Detective – for what reason were you reading _Charlotte's Web_?"

"Hanson was talking about it once with me – one of his kids is having to read it for school. We were talking about the Goose and Templeton and the web and if it were possible to actually weave words, and then we were talking about the movie... It didn't make much sense the first time we had the conversation either – we might have been rather tired..."

"I suppose as an alternative one could discuss the scene in Dumbo with the bubbles..."

"Alright!" Abe glared at Henry. "Alright – enough. We've relived enough childhood nightmares for the moment, thank you..."

Jo laughed. "Alright, I'll spare you – what's this?" She reached out for the death certificate. "Henry?" She turned to him, worried. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

Knowing what assumption she had first jumped to – and knowing that under other circumstances it would have been correct – he quickly reassured her. "'Tisn't for myself, Jo – I'm not leaving."

"Good." She relaxed a little, turning the paper over, and then back to the front. "So, what is this for? Besides certifying death, of course..." She looked back to Henry. "Perhaps 'whom' is the better question?"

"Liz contacted me last night through a monitor in the morgue and tried to blackmail me into give her a death certificate so she could restart her life somewhere else as someone else."

Abe jumped back into the conversation. "Some girl hacked a computer at the morgue and was blackmailing him."

"A girl? Blackmailing you?" Jo pulled a seat out from the table and sat down. "With what?"

"It was Liz – the young woman from the caterer's. She looked into my personal file, my records, and found some...errors." He sighed. "She threatened to give her findings to the NYPD if I did not give in and provide the way for a fresh start in her life."

Jo blinked at him and then turned to Abe with a small smile tugging at her lips. "Did he figure it out on his own, or...?"

Abe shook his head, taking a drink of coffee with a smile.

Henry groaned. "Would the two of you be kind enough to stop? It was quite enough when Abigail and you plotted against me, Abe – must you corrupt this lovely lady too?"

Jo turned back to the Doctor, trying to stifle her grin. "But how do you know it's him corrupting me?"

He stared at her for a moment and then laid his head down on the table as Jo burst into laughter.

"Henry, you lost to a master – apparently age doesn't teach you everything."

Henry sat up again, smiling fondly at the two. "It doesn't – but it has taught me to appreciate acquaintances." He paused for a moment and then continued quietly. "And family."

Jo nodded, dropping the paper back on the table. "Well, now that I've been forgotten -"

"Jo, I didn't mean it that way -"

"Henry. I know. Goodness, it's a conditioned reaction – if still not healthy." She smiled. "Besides, only you would forget the main ally you have and try to handle it all on your own again..."

"As we have established, learning new habits does not come easily."

"No, that it doesn't. So what are you going to do about her now? Help her?"

"She is the main suspect in the investigation, Jo – I couldn't think of it. Besides, the 'new life' she wants won't ever truly come – it will only be an eternity of running and hiding from everyone."

Jo nodded slowly. "Makes sense to me – will you tell her the same?"

"When? I do not have an address or a telephone number by which to find her..."

"No, but," She picked up the certificate again, "You do have this – and she'll have to pick it up eventually."

Henry stared at the paper for a moment and then took it from her, folding it up and sliding it into his waistcoat.

She nodded, standing up. "Are you alright, Henry?"

"I fear my default reaction to exposure is not to relax and assume the problem will dissipate on its own, but 'tis nothing worse than relief and a night of good rest will cure.."

She sighed and shook her head. "Do you need to take the day off or something?"

"Thank you, Detective, but no – although, I will be a little late in arriving at the morgue."

"It doesn't seem like there's going to be much to do today anyway – the kids were going to search the cameras for Liz's face and pinpoint her location, so we're 'relaxing' as Hanson keeps saying." She smiled. "I would still prefer to do the work myself..."

"You must simply adapt and learn new ways – that is something that will never change."

"You would know – may I get a cup of coffee before I go?"

"Sure!" Abe stood up to fetch a cup. "Just bring the cup back later, alright?"

"Of course – thanks! Be safe, Henry!"

"Good bye, Jo!"

Abe pushed another cup towards his father and sat down again. "So, I've got a question: what good is an empty fraudulent death certificate good for?"

"Nothing Abraham – unless one can fill it out properly, of course. Which I assume that for some reason she cannot do that, else it would already be finished."

"True. Now aren't you glad you told Jo?"

Henry sighed, taking a sip of coffee. "I wish that I hadn't burdened her; but yes, I am, Abe."


	21. Social Engineering - Part 4

"For once, the simplest theory is the right one: suicide."

She nodded, watching as Henry rolled Irene's body away and shut the door. "Hanson will be happy to hear that." She paused for a moment and then turned to the assistant that leaned against the wall. "Lucas, would you mind giving us a second?"

"Oh, I can just shut off my ears." He looked up from the papers he was writing in. "It's a skill that I have."

She watched him, waiting for him to change his mind and get the implied order.

"Okay – leaving..."

She turned to watch him go, making sure that he was out of earshot before turning back to Henry, pulling out her phone. "So, I got a strange email that said I should look into your records. However," She held up the phone so Henry could see the message, "It wasn't from Liz."

"Irene..."

"Yes." She put the phone away, frowning. "What happened, Henry? How did she find out?"

He sighed. "The same way Liz did – she looked. Apparently their..." He tried to recall the correct words but was at a loss, "Toys, identified her face as she left the shop after trying to pick up the death certificate. Irene was curious about how I did not mention this visit to anyone, and did her own background check on me." He paused, turning away. "She attempted to kill Liz, to convince me to let her die. She threatened to show you her findings if I saved Liz, if I kept my oath..."

She was silent, stepping up beside him and laying a hand on his shoulder.

"I almost did it – almost gave in... You asked why I am not a practicing physician, and that is why. When I am willing to compromise my conscience and oath to protect my secret – I am not fit for that profession."

Her hand tightened on his shoulder; and she took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "Henry, why did you save her?"

"Pardon?"

"Why did you save her? Was there a better offer? Did you know something that you could use against Irene to make her 'forget' her findings? Were you not really trying?"

"If I weren't trying, I would not have sounded the alarm."

"Then why?"

"Because I could not let her die – I am a doctor, and I cannot in good conscience stand by and let someone die without attempting to do _something_. Others have died for my secret because I hesitated or ran – I cannot bear another death upon my conscience."

She felt the tension running through him, felt the tremors running through his muscles. "Would you have done it the same in different circumstances – if I didn't know your secret? Would you have still risked the exposure?"

He froze, and she almost reached up to check his pulse. After a few minutes, he slowly nodded. "I believe that I would – or that I would at least try."

"There you go. You yourself said that you are a doctor – just because you work in a morgue doesn't mean you aren't a real doctor." She frowned. "By the way, what _did_ they find? It doesn't sound like they knew your condition – you just said that they found errors."

He turned slightly back to her, and she felt him begin to relax as she pulled away.

"Did you not look it up?"

She shook her head. "No – I assumed that it was nothing big. Should I have?"

"The degree from Guam was incorrect, and Liz paired that up with the part that my records simply 'appear' in the system and came to the conclusion that I was running."

"Which isn't entirely incorrect – but why is Guam incorrect? It doesn't look as if it's that big of a deal anyway."

"Jo – without that, I cannot be a doctor and... Detective, why are you smiling?"

"Oxford, Henry – I think you're well-qualified to be a doctor."

"Excuse me?"

"Here." She pulled the file up and showed it to him. "You got a degree at Oxford and were top of your class."

He stared at it, confused. "That's not right..."

"You weren't at Oxford?"

"I didn't put that in – that was not part of my file earlier."

"Then someone else changed it?"

"It seems so..."

"So," She slipped the phone back into her purse again, setting aside the subject of the records-change for the moment. As she opened her mouth to ask a question, there was a beep from a nearby computer monitor. She frowned, and went to step towards it; but then stopped. "Henry?"

"That is the station that Liz took command of the last time, perhaps..." Momentarily setting her aside, he made his way over to the computer.

"Howdy."

Jo stood where she was, assuming that she couldn't be seen and letting Henry talk to the girl. He had relaxed completely, and she could tell he was smiling at her. He might second and triple guess himself; but it seemed that in the end, he was still certain that the choice had been made correctly.

She looked down to the ground with a smile, glancing back to the Doctor as he leaned towards the monitor. He would be alright again, and she had something to do. Keeping out of the way of the monitor, she left the morgue, not alerting Henry.


	22. Social Engineering - Part 5

"Hi, Jo. Is the case solved, or did you need Henry for something?"

She stepped passed him into the shop, nodding her thanks. "No, I don't need Henry – the case is finished. Here." She handed him the mug he had given her with coffee. "Thanks for that earlier – it was good."

Abe accepted the cup, glancing at the small envelope she held in her hand as she hung up her purse and coat. "What's that?"

"The envelope? It's just something for Henry – kind of a late birthday present or something... A first death present?"

"That's probably not -"

"No." She smiled. "I wouldn't do that now – no, this is just a gift for him; no reason. Where is he?"

"Oh, he's in the back – I think he was going through pictures earlier."

She leaned into the sitting room, taking in the warm atmosphere. "Henry?"

"Jo?" He looked up from the pictures he held and began to stand up. "This is a...pleasant surprise."

She waved him back down and sat down beside him, glancing at the pictures. "I had to return Abe's cup – is that you?"

He looked back to the pictures, nodding slowly. "Yes. And Nora, my first wife."

She studied the simple pictures – antiques to others, but a memory to the man that sat beside her. "She's pretty."

"Yes, she is – was." He sighed, laying the picture down on his lap. "She was beautiful and strong – able and willing to think fast and for herself." His smile was bittersweet as he remembered. "She was admirable."

"...And she had you locked in an insane asylum?"

" _I_ would have locked myself in an asylum if I were her. There was no proof to uphold my story unless I killed myself – and she stopped me."

He was silent again, and Jo reached for the envelope.

"We met again, once."

"What?"

"Nora and I – we met again. It was many, many years later – she was no longer young, but she still remembered her husband. I had saved someone's life, and my paper had been in the paper. I did not want the attention, but the publicity was apparently good for the hospital.

"Nora saw the picture and recognised me. She had changed, and..." His voice trailed off and he swallowed. "A nurse in the hospital that worked with me took a bullet from me and died because I..."

"It wasn't your fault, Henry..."

"No, perhaps not – but it is the fault of my condition, of my life. And I have to live, and die, with that."

"And how many lives are the fault of your condition, of your life? How many people have you saved either just by living, or with your knowledge of medicine and the human body? How many criminals have you helped catch?" She squeezed his hand. "I think it's a good trade to live forever." She let his hand go and put the envelope in it.

"What is this?"

"Memory can't hold things forever, Henry – these are so you always remember."

He frowned and opened the envelope, sliding the contents out into his hand.

Jo leaned back in her seat, watching as Henry looked through the pictures. When he had spoken of images holding memories when the mind could not, she knew she had to do this. It had been simple to arrange, as they had been 'relaxing'. Mostly... She had either found or taken pictures of Hanson, Lucas, Henry, Reece, and even Abe. There were a few pictures of her in there as well, as it wouldn't have been complete without it.

Henry's hands were shaking when he finished going through the pictures, and he carefully returned them to the envelope. "Jo..."

"It's fine, Henry. I'm glad you liked it." As he set the envelope and the old pictures on his lap aside, she changed the subject. "How did Liz get access to a computer?"

"It was a nurse's, and she was borrowing it – she was the one who corrected my files."

"That was nice."

"Yes. And she will not be leaving either – apparently, I made it 'sound too rough'."

Jo smiled gently. "Well, it certainly can't be easy."

He nodded, and took a deep breath. "Thank you, Jo – it is..." He paused to find a word. "It is priceless."

"You're welcome, Henry – but we're friends. It's only right."

He shook his head. "No. You are not only a friend, Jo."


	23. Dead Men Tell Long Tales - Part 1

"It's happened, hasn't it – I've become boring."

"Boring?" Abe frowned. "No, you're not boring. You just need some new – Jo!"

She paused slightly as she entered the shop, walking towards the table with a small smile. "Hello – did I miss anything?"

"Hey. Henry was just telling a story."

"Oh?" She pulled off her gloves and hat. "Anything exciting?"

Henry sighed and glanced sideways at his son. "Apparently not..."

"Henry, you're _not_ boring -"

"No, I have simply ceased to be a source of fresh experiences – of unworn stories."

Abe straightened the papers on the table, muttering, "Well, I did say that you needed some new stories."

She tilted her head, watching the two with a bemused smile. "What exactly is going on here?"

"I was only telling Abraham of the importance of the cartographer Thompson's style and -"

"Before he goes on, he didn't bore me. I am an antiques dealer though, and I'd like to think I picked up some trivia living with you most of my life."

Henry sighed. "Of course – I never meant that you didn't know, I just..."

Jo shook her head slightly and interrupted. "Well, you'll have to tell me some stories later."

"No, Jo – 'tis perfectly alright." He changed the subject. "However, you did not come over to catch us in a disagreement?"

"No, I didn't. But, speaking of maps, I have something that might 'float your boat'."

Henry visibly brightened and turned to her. Behind him, Abe shook his head in amusement and exasperation.

"Oh? A case?"

"Yes – will that be interesting enough?" She stifled the smile brought on by Abe rapidly nodding his head in the background only to fall still as soon as Henry glanced back to see what she was laughing at.

As he left to fetch his coat and scarf, he asked about the scene.

"Captain Rick Rassmussen was found in his home, stabbed through the chest with a harpoon."

Henry wrapped the scarf around his neck. "That's different."

"No masquerading as a whaling captain, Henry."

The Doctor turned back to his son with a confused frown. "Excuse me?"

Abe looked up from his new maps. "You know, harpoon? Man murdered in house? Detective sends out advertisment to catch the killer?" He waited for recognition then sighed. "Holmes?"

Henry nodded, now recognising the story. "I shall try not to, Abraham – there are many better methods available to the force now."

"I'm sure. Have fun catching the killer!"

Following Henry out the door of the shop, Jo waved back. "I'll try to get him back safely!"

"Well, he's sure to turn up – good bye, Jo! Come back again!"

She nodded, crossing to the driver's side and unlocking the car. She started the vehicle as Henry buckled in beside her. As they drove off, she stated: "You do know that Lucas is probably going to have a hundred quotes for this, right?"


	24. Dead Men Tell Long Tales - Part 2

She sighed, leaving the Lieutenant's office. "All right, I covered for you – Reece thinks that we went to that warehouse together, and Abe was omitted from the report." She stopped before Henry and folded her arms across her chest.

"Thank you."

"Henry, what is going on with you?"

He shifted away from her and she frowned.

"Detective, there is nothing wrong – I simply got caught up in the case."

"Henry, breaking into a warehouse in the middle of the night to find evidence is more Abe's style than yours." She let her arms drop to her sides. "What is so important about the ship?"

He hesitated, looking away from her. "The ship?"

"Yes, the _Empress of Africa_ – ever since you saw what ship it was, you've been...preoccupied." She waited for an answer; but Henry was silent, slightly pulling away from her. "Henry, please – I want to help, and I can't do that if I don't have all of the facts. Do you need to get off this case? I could get Dr. Washington to -"

"No." He took a deep breath and then continued. "No, Jo, that isn't necessary – I am perfectly capable of completing this case."

She frowned at him for a moment. "Alright, then what is it with the ship?" When he continued to hesitate about answering, she continued. "I need to know, Henry, so I have a reason for your eccentric actions here. So I know why you're in a warehouse in the middle of the night and focusing more on the ship than the murder."

For a few more moments, the Doctor waited, looking around the precinct. Finally, he decided to answer, and it seemed as if he relaxed. "The _Empress of Africa_ was the scene of my first death – the ship whose captain killed me."

She stared at him for a second. "Then when you saw that stuff..."

He sighed. "Yes, I recognised it. But they are nothing, merely sodden relics of a time long past." He stood up, slipping off her desk. "However, Abraham finds them very interesting..."

She nodded, and then frowned. "But why the obsession with it? Why are you so interested in finding out how they found the ship?"

"If someone else knew where the ship was, then that person would know about the gold and would be a suspect."

"Why?"

He frowned. "Pardon?"

"Why are you so certain that there is someone else? How do you know that they didn't just stumble across it?"

"Because the ship should have sunk near the Caicos Islands – I have always thought that was where it sank..."

She leaned against her desk. "What difference does it make if the ship sank in the south or in the north? You weren't on it at the time, so..." She trailed off, looking at Henry expectantly.

"Will you let this drop?"

"Probably not – look at it this way," She smiled, "You get to tell one of your stories again."

His shook his head, a small smile appearing. He sighed, folding his hands in front of him. "The _Empress of Africa_ was my father's ship – a slave ship. I had promised myself that I would end his work – stop everything that had been built by or depended upon his participation in the slave trade – and if I had accomplished my goal upon the _Empress_ , then I would have fulfilled my promise."

"But you had said that you wouldn't stand against it – wouldn't risk your family."

"I would not risk Nora – but in my mind then, my father was not family. I was angry and betrayed and..." He sighed. "I was young. But I had determined to free the slaves aboard that ship, to finish what I had set out to do."

"By yourself? You were going to start a mutiny by yourself?"

"In a way, I suppose I was. But my part in the tale only went as far as bringing a key that would unlock the shackles and doors to a slave and directing them to the armoury." He sighed. "And, in the end, I could not even accomplish that."

"Why not?" She was quiet; and he leaned towards her, trusting that she would believe him whatever might happen.

"The Captain – he suspected something, did not believe that I was simply the owner's son with no ulterior motives. He interrupted me just as I was about to give the key to the man; and then a slave was reported with fever. As a doctor, I volunteered to examine the slave – to treat him – but it still ended the same.

"I went aboard the _Empress_ to save the people, and I gave up my single chance to deliver the key to save a single man. In the end, I accomplished nothing except bring my curse down upon my head. Perhaps that is why I cannot die, why I am punished with for-" He choked himself off and looked down.

She stared at him for a moment and then pulled back as if to see him clearly. "What? Henry, you don't think that it was your fault!" When he didn't answer, her face relaxed in shock. "No – Henry, you were _shot,"_ She hissed. "You were murdered – you couldn't have known that would happen. And who's to say you would have succeeded anyway? If the Captain suspected something, maybe he changed the locks or had guards waiting – they all might have died anyway." She laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to find words that he hadn't heard or thought before – that might be able to bring him back to the present, to where she needed him.

"'Tis alright, Jo."

She glanced over at him in confusion at his quiet statement. His smile was small and not altogether real, and she could see him pulling everything back behind his mortal, eccentric mask.

"I will be able to assist you with the current investigation. The _Empress_ has lain beneath the water for two hundred years – it will keep for a few more days."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, straightening up and pulling slightly away from her. "Of course, Jo. Now, I believe you have a suspect to question?"

She tilted her head, looking him over. Eventually, she gave up, knowing that he had far too much experience with keeping secrets for her to get something out of him if he truly didn't want to share. As she planned out their next steps, she couldn't help but think that this wasn't exactly fair so soon after Liz's attempt at blackmail. Surely even an immortal was entitled to a break occasionally...


	25. Dead Men Tell Long Tales - Part 3

"Dr. Morgan? Dr. Henry Morgan"

Both Jo and Henry looked towards the voice, wondering what was wanted.

"That is me." He attempted to straighten his clothes, and Jo rolled her eyes. "If this is about my suit..."

She shook her head slightly as the Doctor tried to explain. They were in the middle of a murder investigation, and he was worried about the etiquette for the party. Although, in some ways, he probably considered himself undressed for most of life...

"There's a call for you."

He stopped moving, and she could see him begin to turn towards her with a frown. Nodding at her and Monroe, he moved away. "Excuse me."

Left alone with Monroe, she wasn't sure what to think. He was a suspect – yet he was flirting with her. He didn't seem to notice that she was a cop that was considering him as a murder suspect, and she couldn't decide whether to be flattered or uncomfortable.

And what had the waiter said? Henry had a call? She frowned, turning away from Monroe slightly. How would someone know he would be at the Explorer's club at this time? Abe might have known, but he wouldn't have anything so important that he couldn't go through Jo nor wait. And if anyone else wanted to get a hold of Henry, they could go through her or wait as well.

"Good night, Mr. Monroe."

Walking away, she barely heard his reply as she thought it over. For some reason, this situation was worrying her, and she couldn't pinpoint why. It wasn't as if his friend – oh. Of course. And, being Henry, he probably suspected it and never thought to tell her somehow. At least it was only on the phone – while meeting him in person might give her a chance to catch him, her common sense pointed out that it was safer for all involved if she didn't really get involved with Adam.

Reaching the door, she listened for a moment, but heard only muffled voices.

"Henry?" She opened the door and walked into the dark room, nodding a greeting towards the well-dressed man leaving. "Henry, who were you talking to?"

He was silent, staring at one of the exhibits. She crossed the room to stand by him, looking down at the rusted pistol sitting beneath the glass. She frowned, looking back at Henry.

"What is it?"

He blinked and looked up, as if just realising she was there.

"Henry. Was that Adam?"

He nodded slowly. "Adam was here..."

"Wait." She straightened up abruptly. "Adam was _here_? In person?" When he nodded again, she stiffened. "But I thought he _called_ you!"

"He did. But he was waiting in here." He gestured toward a statue.

Mentally, she ran through everything that had happened, wondering what she had missed. Suddenly, remembering the man that had left the room just as she entered, she gasped.

Henry snapped out of the daze he seemed to be in just as she turned and slipped through the doors into the street. "Detective! Jo! Stop!" He jerked open the door to follow her and slid to a stop when he ran into her just outside the doors. "Jo?"

She was staring at a point to the left of the door, and Henry frowned.

"Jo? Why did you stop?"

"You didn't want me to go after him in the first place – did you change your mind already?"

"No, of course not – he does not need to know that you are aware of whom and what he is – but what made you change your mind?"

She gestured towards the area she had been staring at. "There was a glow over there – I don't think I'll find him anywhere nearby."

"Oh." Henry sighed in relief.

She looked at him, smiling softly in bemusement. "Henry, are you glad that a murderer got away?"

"No, of course not. I am simply glad that you did not catch him."

She stared at him then shook her head with a smile. "And I must be spending to much time around you and your insanity, for that makes sense..."


End file.
